


Blackbird

by violenttulips



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29140023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violenttulips/pseuds/violenttulips
Summary: Fenrir Greyback gets his revenge.Harry Potter is bitten, and now feels like his life is over.Who better to snap him out of it and show him that life is still worth living than Draco Malfoy?Inspired by The Beatle's song "Blackbird."[Updates weekly on Mondays]
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 25
Kudos: 77





	1. Prologue

Harry groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. His head was spinning. The searing pain nearly made him black out again.

Fighting the urge to succumb to the darkness once more, he used his uninjured arm to push himself up off the ground, fingers digging into the snow.

Falling asleep again in this frigid weather would surely mean death. He was already starting to lose feeling in his hands.

He opened his eyes, and the forest spun around him. Squeezing them tightly shut, he took a deep breath and tried again.

This time he was able to focus. By some miracle, his glasses had remained on his nose. His Impervious Charm had kept them clean and unbroken, despite his face being pressed against the hard, frozen ground just moments earlier.

His wand was lying in the snow beside him. He snatched it up, casting a quick Warming Charm over himself. Next, he shot red sparks into the sky, alerting his fellow Aurors of his position.

His target was lying on the ground beside him, staining the snow around them with blood. Harry's Severing Charm had done its job. If only he'd managed it a few moments sooner.

Scrabbling away from the lifeless body, he leaned against a nearby tree trunk and tipped his head back, gazing at the bright full moon peeking out from between the branches.

It was over. Ron and his other colleagues would find him soon. He'd survived.

But the intense, nearly-blinding pain in his shoulder made him wonder if he would soon wish he hadn't.

Too exhausted to dwell on this grim thought for long, he closed his eyes and let his mind go blissfully dark once more.


	2. 1 | Blackbird Singing

_Two and a Half Months Later_

"I'm just so _bored_ ," Draco whined, pouring two glasses of white wine and passing one to his friend, who was patiently spooning baby food into her high-chair bound child's mouth.

"I want to _help_ people, 'Mione! I invented a better version of the Anti-Nausea potion, for Merlin's sake! _You've_ tried it —" He smiled at Rose and got a wide, four-toothed baby-grin in response, "— when your morning sickness was out of control with this one. _You_ know how much better it is than that putrid swill they peddle at the hospital."

Hermione smiled at the memory. Despite his protests that he'd "already been working on it," and "just happened to finish testing for side effects while she was pregnant and sick all day every day — _such_ good timing!"She _knew_. He'd created that potion just for her. Beneath his prickly Slytherin exterior, Draco Malfoy was as kind and good a friend as they come.

"I can't even get anyone to answer my owl about it," Draco continued, "Not the Ministry, not St. Mungo's... No one can see that I've changed, that I want to be doing something good with my life. It's been four bloody years since the war! I need to be doing _some_ thing, or I'll go insane!"

He threw himself dramatically into a chair at the table beside her and ran a hand through his platinum blond hair.

"Or some _one_." Hermione muttered into her wine glass before taking a sip, her mouth curving into an amused smile.

"That's not — I'm doing just fine in that department, I'll have you know!"

She shot him a knowing look.

"Okay, it's been a couple months. But that's not the problem. I'm just not... _interested_... in that right now."

She tilted her head and appraised him for a moment before turning around and scooping green mush off of Rose's chin with the spoon and popping it back into the baby's mouth.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Draco briefly marveled at his deep friendship with the woman beside him. They had both gone back to Hogwarts for one more year, while their closest friends all chose other things instead.

Changed by the war, Draco had apologized for his treatment of her, and he was eternally grateful that she'd forgiven him. Amazed, really.

He hadn't expected her to forgive him at all, and yet, _somehow_ , Hermione had forgiven him on the spot, right there in the library, and immediately invited him to study with her. They became inseparable not long after that, surprising themselves as much as everyone else.

She'd been the person he'd first come out to, during that eighth year, and her support had meant everything to him. It still did.

Now, several years later, they still met for lunch at least once a week. Lately it was always like this, with Hermione stealing bites off her plate between shoveling spoonfuls of baby food into Rose's mouth, but Draco didn't mind. He adored that little girl and usually showed up with a new teething toy, board book, or rattle of some sort for her. Hermione accused him of trying to compete with the child's godfather with all of his doting, but he denied any such thing. It _may_ have been true, at least partially, but he denied it anyway.

An owl fluttered into the room and dropped a note into Hermione's outstretched hand, interrupting his brief reverie.

She opened it and Draco caught sight of a familiar, untidy scrawl. Just one sentence. He was too far away to read it, but he knew the handwriting.

The sight sent a twinge of misery through him. He was so busy fighting down his own emotions, he almost missed the tears that had pooled in his friend's eyes.

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

"Oh!" She turned her attention back to her baby. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

"You're not, you're crying. Who was that from?"

"I can't talk about it."

"Can't talk about _what?"_

She wiped at her eyes and brandished the tiny spoon at him. "Don't test me, Draco. I'm armed with puréed peas."

He sighed, pouting. "I just wanted to help."

Rose upended the bowl on her high chair tray, splattering mushed up peas all over Hermione's shirt, face, and hair. She set down her glass of wine and threw up her hands. "Alright, we're done!"

She grabbed her wand and scourgified both herself and the giggling baby.

"Time for a nap, little one!" Hermione swept Rosie up out of her chair, kissing her cheek noisily. "I'll just be a moment." They disappeared up the stairs.

Draco refilled his wine glass and moved to the sofa to wait. Before he could stop them, memories began to flood his mind.

It had started so unexpectedly. One moment, he was drinking alone at the bar, enjoying the burn in his throat and the loud music of the club pounding around him. The next, a slightly tipsy and startlingly handsome Harry Potter had settled into the stool beside him and started talking to him. Draco had been too shocked to even try to come up with anything scathing or snarky to say.

Next thing he knew, he had pulled Harry onto the dance floor. A short while later, they found themselves giving up any pretense of dancing and hungrily exploring each other's mouths.

It had all felt completely surreal.

Even after that, when they'd Apparated to Draco's flat.

Even after Harry had torn his clothes off and proceeded to take him apart so exquisitely that he couldn't do anything but scream Harry's given name and try not to lose himself completely in the throws of ecstasy.

Even after that, when they had both come back to their senses, and Harry had grinned cheekily and held out a hand. "Friends?"

Draco had been startled, but he took the proffered hand and smiled, forcing himself to sound as nonchalant as possible. "With _benefits?_ Because, Merlin, Potter, that was..." He didn't even have words to describe the experience.

"Sure." Harry had winked at him. Before Apparating away, he'd leaned over and kissed him again, "I'll owl you."

And Draco hadn't had to wait long. Less than 24 hours later, they were at it again.

They met regularly after that, and Draco discovered that he liked the friendship side of things almost as much as he liked the benefits.

Harry was different from the person Draco remembered. Or maybe he'd just never really known him.

He was funny, and clever. He easily kept up with Draco's wit and incisive tongue when they bantered, which was any time they were together.

Harry laughed easily, and he was a good listener. He made Draco feel like anything and everything he had to say was important, and he found himself unexpectedly comfortable talking to Harry.

He'd let Draco lay in his lap while they talked, absently running his fingers through the blond strands while he patiently listened to Draco rant about potions ingredients and rare plants for hours, even asking intermittent questions to show he was listening, even though Draco was pretty sure he only understood about half of what he said. Harry was terrible at potions, after all, but Draco appreciated the effort.

Harry liked talking about Draco's interests far more than he liked talking about himself, Draco noticed.

But when Draco _did_ manage to get Harry to talk about the things he was passionate about, his vivid green eyes would light up, and Draco would find himself completely transfixed.

He adored his godchildren, Teddy and Rose. He loved his friends, his Weasley family, and his job at the Aurors where he got to work with Ron every day.

He liked to cook, and Draco quickly became his sounding board to try all kinds of new recipes — Some good, some not.

He was remodeling Grimmauld Place himself, and had discovered that he liked working with his hands. He used magic to help things along occasionally, but did most of the work the muggle way, which Draco found fascinating.

He'd taught himself to play guitar two years ago, and had a surprisingly nice voice. Occasionally, if Draco was lucky, he could convince him to play something for him.

One afternoon in December, a few months after that first meeting at the club, they found themselves in Harry's room back at Grimmauld Place.

Draco loved Harry's bedroom. He didn't know what it had looked like before, but Harry had transformed the Master Bedroom of the old house into a place that was simultaneously cozy and bright. The walls were a soft, cream color. The floors throughout the house were all the original hardwood, but restored and stained a deep, chocolate brown.

The first time he'd been there, Draco had been surprised by the accents of deep forest green in the curtains, the bedspread, the two chairs flanking the fireplace, and the rug. Harry had laughed when he'd commented on it. "Gryffindors are allowed to like green, Draco," he'd teased.

The last time Draco had seen Harry, the fireplace had been crackling pleasantly, warming the room against the chill from outside. Harry had pulled the curtains back, and the bright afternoon light was streaming through the windows.

They had been sprawled comfortably on the bed, having finished with the benefits side of things, when Draco reached out and lightly traced his fingers over Harry's bare chest.

"Play something for me?"

"Hmm?" Harry opened his eyes sleepily and smiled at him.

"Please?"

"What would you like to hear?"

"My favorite."

Harry had lazily stretched his arms above his head and kissed Draco's shoulder. "Alright, then."

He rolled out of bed, tugged on a comfortable pair of jogger sweatpants he'd left on the floor, and picked up his guitar. He summoned one of the chairs from the fireplace so that it was beside the bed, settled into it and began to play, his deep, lilting voice filling the room.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise —"

Draco had sighed and drifted off to sleep, Harry's voice enveloping him in warmth and comfort better than any blanket.

A few hours later, Draco had woken to a note on the bedside table, hastily written in Harry's distinctive, messy scrawl.

"Got owled into work — Big lead on a case. Not sure how long I'll be gone, but I'm still planning on Quidditch on Saturday. See you then. —Harry"

Harry _hadn't_ shown up for quidditch three days later, but Draco hadn't been too worried at the time, he'd figured Harry was still working his Auror case and wasn't able to contact him.

But then it had been absolute silence from him ever since.

Draco had owled, tried to floo-call, had even apparated to Grimmauld Place and knocked, but he got no response.

Harry's name and picture showed up in the Daily Prophet after about a week, announcing his abrupt and shocking decision to leave the Auror Department. Draco was grateful he was alive, he supposed, but more confused and frustrated than ever. Harry had loved being an Auror. None of it made any sense.

He tried to contact him a few more times, but after several painful weeks without any response, he gave up.

The abrupt disconnection hurt more than he cared to admit. Draco couldn't deny that he'd developed feelings for Harry. Maybe he'd scared him off. But... he'd felt like Harry had felt something for him, too. That was what stung the most: The hope Draco had begun to feel that this thing between them was developing into something more, something real, was dashed without any sort of explanation or closure.

He wanted to feel angry, wanted to scream and curse Harry James Potter's name like he had so many times in his youth, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Two and a half months later, and his heart still ached.

"Draco?" Hermione was back. She settled onto the other end of the sofa with her drink, turning to face him and brushing a few loose curls out of her eyes.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Sorry. What?"

"Before I tell you this, you have to swear not to tell anyone."

Draco's eyes lifted to meet his friends. "You're going to tell me what that note was about?"

"You're my best friend. I know I can trust you. And if I don't talk to someone, I'll —" She was on the verge of tears again, "I just need to talk to someone."

"Okay."

"I need you to promise not to tell anyone."

Now Draco's interest was piqued. "What could possibly—"

"Swear it!"

He jumped at her forceful tone. "I swear, Hermione! I won't tell anyone!"

She took a deep breath. "Alright, then. So... You know Harry?"

"Harry Potter? Your best friend? Savior of the Wizarding World? You mean _that_ Harry? No. What does he look like?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, _that_ Harry. Well, you probably know he's quit the Auror Department, right?"

"Oh yes, I read something about that in the paper. How _is_ Weasley taking it? Still crying himself to sleep every night?"

Hermione glared at him. "Don't be a prat, Draco. This is serious."

"Sorry," Draco muttered.

"Everyone knows that Harry left the Aurors a few months ago, but very few people know why."

"Mmhm."

"He was _bitten_ , Draco." She whispered the words, as if saying them quietly would make them any less horrible.

"He was _what?"_

Hermione sighed sadly. "Greyback escaped custody. Harry was working the case, trying to track him down. Greyback let himself be seen outside a small village on a full moon night just before he turned, and when Harry's Auror team went after him, Greyback hunted and attacked Harry."

"But... The Daily Prophet said that Harry killed Greyback?"

"He did, but not before..." Her eyes filled up with tears again.

Draco's stomach clenched painfully. He forced a light tone into his voice. "That was what, just over two months ago?"

But he knew exactly when it had happened. He remembered that beautiful, glowing full moon. He'd admired it before Apparating home from the front step of Grimmauld Place.

Harry had been bitten _that_ night, after he'd been with Draco. After he'd sung him to sleep and then been unexpectedly called away for work. Oh _, Harry._

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night—_

Hermione nodded tearfully.

"So he's been through two transformations?"

"Yes. The first was at St. Mungo's. He was there for a month while his bite healed. The second one was last week."

Draco's head was spinning.

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly—_

"He's on Wolfsbane?"

"Yes. He's been completely docile each time, but it's still unimaginably painful. He says it makes the Cruciatus Curse feel like a punch on the arm by comparison, and I'm compelled to believe it. The morning after he transforms back, he doesn't even look like himself. It's horrible. I always check on him the next morning, and I—"

She broke down, crying quietly into her hands.

_All your life—_

Draco shuddered. He was familiar with the pain of Cruciatus, and it was excruciating, so for Transformation to be even _worse_... He shook his head, disconcerted by the dark turn their conversation had taken.

"What did he say in the note?"

Hermione smiled weakly, wiping at her eyes.

"Oh. I just invited him to dinner. He... I mean, I didn't expect him to accept, not _really_ , but I'd hoped... Rose misses him. We all do."

Draco pulled her into his arms. Partly to comfort her, and partly so she wouldn't see his own expression as he asked, "how is he doing?"

She sobbed against his shoulder.

"That bad?"

"He's not himself, Draco. He's isolated. He barely eats. He won't get out of bed. He's closed his Floo, he's pushing everyone away. It hurts to see him like that. I don't know what to do."

Draco nodded, fighting back his own tears, trying to reconcile the Harry Potter he knew with the one she was describing.

Hermione continued. "And word _will_ get out eventually. The Wizarding World is more accepting of werewolves now than it once was, but it's still..."

Draco nodded again, guilt coiling painfully in his stomach. He'd held those beliefs, once. That werewolves were lesser. Abhorrent, even. But that version of himself was long gone.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. "I need to go see him."

"I thought you might." Hermione laughed through her tears.

"You— you _knew?_ "

"Draco. You're my best friend. Did you really think you could start sleeping with my _other_ best friend and I wouldn't notice?"

He chuckled. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

She smiled softly. "No. And I think— I think you might be the only person who can get through to him right now, Draco."

"Me? _Why?_ Harry and I were just a fling and now it's over, it wasn't anything—"

"Do you _really_ believe that?"

The knowing look in her eyes was disconcerting. "I did... At first."

"And now?"

"I care about him. But I thought he didn't..."

"I know," she whispered, her eyes sympathetic. "Harry _begged_ me not to tell you, Draco. He said he'd rather have you think he abandoned you than have you know — Than have you see him like this _._.. What he's become..."

"That's ridiculous! Does he really think that I'd feel any different... It wasn't his fault! And it's not like he's a completely different person, right?"

"I know. I'm just repeating what _he_ said. And no, he's not. Not really."

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise—_

Draco stood. "Can I go see him?"

She bit her lip. "Yes, I think you should. He'll be angry with me for telling you, but it's alright, you needed to know."

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"He's hired a house elf. His name is Jenkins. I've already told him to let you in if you come by."

Draco nodded and Apparated directly to Grimmauld Place.

_Blackbird, fly—_


	3. 2 | In the Dead

Jenkins the hired house elf did let him in, and Draco found himself following him up the familiar path through the house to Harry's bedroom.

"How is he?" Draco asked quietly.

"Master Harry is not being well, sir. He is not eating, even when Jenkins is bringing him all his favorite foods! He is sleeping all the day long in that dark, dark room. Jenkins is very worried, Master Draco."

"I'll try to help him."

"That is good, sir. Master Harry is a good master. He pays Jenkins very well, and tells him to take as many days off as he wants, and always speaks kindly to him, even though he is not being well. Jenkins would like him to get better very much."

Draco smiled when they reached the door to Harry's bedroom. "Thank you. I can go in alone."

The house elf nodded and Disapparated with a _pop_.

Hesitantly, Draco turned the handle and pushed the door open. The dark green curtains had been drawn, and the fireplace was empty, making the room dark and ice-cold. He could make out Harry's sleeping form tucked under the covers of the large bed, an untouched tray of food on the bedside table. He was unusually still, and shivering slightly under the covers.

"Harry?"

Draco moved closer and saw the empty potion vial on the tray, the only item he appeared to have touched.

Draco shut his eyes tight. "Jenkins?"

The house elf appeared with another small popping noise. "Yes, sir?"

"What time did he take the Dreamless Sleep potion?"

"Master Harry is taking it after breakfast, sir. Around seven o'clock. It is being the only thing he wanted."

Draco counted the hours in his head. He should be waking up soon, then.

"Would you mind lighting a fire?"

"Of course, sir! Jenkins is happy to light a fire."

The elf set to work and soon the room was partially lit by a cozy fire and beginning to warm up a bit. Draco sat on the edge of the bed and gently trailing his fingers over Harry's face, then pushed them through his dark hair. His jaw was scruffier than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes were so purple they looked almost like bruises. Draco glanced around for Harry's glasses, but couldn't seem to find them anywhere.

It was only a few minutes before Harry began to stir.

"Draco."

Draco's hand stilled at the sound of his name. He had been staring into the fire, lost in thought, running his fingers through Harry's hair. He turned to look at him.

"Harry," Draco murmured, stroking his hair again.

The other man's face was curiously blank, his brilliant green eyes inscrutable.

"Why didn't you tell me, Harry?"

"Didn't think you'd be interested in fucking a werewolf, Drake. I'm afraid if you're feeling frisky I'm closed for business." He turned away, rolling onto his other side.

Draco glared at him. "That's not why I'm here, Harry, and you know it. I thought we were _friends_... I'm here as a friend."

"Great. Now go away."

"No."

"I'm not interested in your pity friendship, or whatever this is, Draco. I just want to be left alone."

"Tough shit."

Harry turned and glared at him. "Excuse me?"

"I said _tough shit,_ you impossible berk!" Draco growled. "You can't just cut off all contact with me and expect me to be fine with it. I deserved an explanation, you prick! And since I _am_ your friend, I'm not leaving you to wallow in your bed forever, _alone_ , sleeping the rest of your life away."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned over again. "Fine. Whatever. Stay as long as you want. I don't care. Jenkins?"

The house elf reappeared. "Can I get another dose of Dreamless, please?"

The elf glanced at Draco, who shook his head.

"Sorry, sir," the elf responded before Disapparating.

" _I hate you_ ," Harry muttered.

Draco scoffed and climbed into the bed beside him, laying on the pillow he'd occupied so many times before. "You can be an arse all you want, I'm not leaving."

"I can see that," Harry snapped. "Why not?"

"I want to be here for you. Talk to me, Harry. Come on."

"What is there to talk about? Greyback bit me. I'm a werewolf now. I lost my job, my life will never be... I'll be a bloody pariah when this gets out."

"Harry—"

"I didn't give up the first seventeen years of my life fighting Voldemort for _this_ , Drake. It's not fair."

" _Harry_."

Draco flung his arms around him, fully expecting to be pushed away, but instead Harry broke down, sobbing into Draco's shoulder. Draco held him and cried with him, rubbing his back and carding his fingers through his hair, murmuring soothing words as his own heart broke over and over.

_No, it really wasn't fair._

•••••

Outside the door, Hermione grinned at Ron and Jenkins. The three of them moved downstairs to the sitting room and Ron collapsed on the sofa.

"Master Harry is crying."

"Yes, that's good," Hermione beamed. "I knew getting Draco over here would help."

"I can't believe they were sleeping together for _months_ and Harry didn't tell us. And you even figured it out and _still_ didn't tell me," Ron complained.

"Not my secret to share, sweetheart," she admonished.

"Tell me again how the crying is a good thing?"

Jenkins nodded in agreement with Ron.

"Harry needs to grieve properly to accept what he's going through. He's been keeping everything buried inside, seething and pretending to be angry when he's really..."

"Sad." Ron finished.

"Yes. I mean, there's anger too, of course, he's not wrong about it being unfair, after everything he's been through it does feel that way— but it's good that he's talking to Draco about how he's feeling. That's important so he can accept it and move forward, and—"

A wanton moan sounded from the bedroom above them, and Ron made a horrified choking sound. Hermione bit her lower lip. "Oh! I wasn't expecting... That's good, too. But, um, let's get out of here."

Ron beat her down the stairs, hands over his ears the entire way. Jenkins bid them goodbye at the door, and they Apparated home from the front step.

•••••

Draco had been startled when Harry had rolled on top of him and crushed their mouths together, but he quickly leaned into it, tasting the salt from Harry's tears and the desperation in his kiss. Eager to provide whatever comfort he could, Draco responded with fervor. They were soon kissing ferociously, hands roaming freely, both moaning breathlessly, the motions and physical responses pleasantly familiar.

But when Draco tried to tug Harry's shirt up over his head, Harry suddenly scrambled away, clear off of the other side of bed, gasping and shaking.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't—I can't do this. I'm so sorry. You should go. Please just go."

"Harry? What the hell just happened?"

" _Please_ , Drake."

The shattered look in Harry's eyes convinced him, and Draco sighed.

"Fine, but I'm coming back to check on you tomorrow. And I'm throwing out all of your Dreamless before I go. Read a book to pass the time or something, for Merlin's sake. No more potion-induced sleep. Too much of that isn't healthy and could put you in a coma indefinitely. You may be fine with that, but I, _your friend_ , am not."

Harry shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze.

Draco paused at the doorway. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

He almost didn't catch the whispered "okay," as he shut the door behind him.

Jenkins happily provided him with all the vials of Dreamless Sleep in the house, and Draco promptly Vanished them.

"Don't let him order any more of that rubbish. It's highly addictive, and it can be extremely dangerous if abused."

"Yes, sir." The house elf responded, looking relieved.

Draco smiled. "I'll be back tomorrow."

The house elf beamed at him as he ushered him out the front door.

"Thank you very much, Master Draco."

•••••

Draco sank gratefully down onto the sofa once he got home to his own flat. In some ways, his heart felt better; in others, it hurt much _much_ worse.

Harry had been hurting for the past few months, too. Hurting so much that he'd preferred to sleep all day than deal with how he'd been feeling.

That strangely caustic person who lashed out, then panicked and broke down, was not the Harry Potter that he'd come to know. That he'd come to... Love. Oh _Circe_ , he didn't just care about Harry, he was _in love_ with him.

The force of that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

_He was in love with him._

And Harry wanted nothing to do with him. Not as a friend, not as a lover, not anything.

Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands.

_Now what?_

•••••

"Harry?"

"What do you want, Hermione?" He growled.

He was still on the bed, but for once, he was wide awake. There was a book on the bedside table, but he wasn't reading at the moment. He was lying on his stomach, clutching a pillow to his chest, his head resting on his arms as he gazed into the fire glowing merrily in the fireplace.

Hermione mentally thanked Draco.

"I just wanted to stop by... See how you're doing."

"How could you tell him, 'Mione?" Harry's whisper was laced with anguish. "You promised."

She nodded, swallowing nervously. "Draco cares about you. He deserved to know. It wasn't fair for you to keep him in the dark, Harry."

" _FAIR_?" Harry turned and sat up to glare at her as he responded. "You want to talk about _fair? NONE OF THIS IS FAIR!_ " He roared, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

"I know you care about him, Harry. I had to tell him."

"You bloody well _didn't_."

Hermione held his gaze, her lips pursed. "You didn't seem all that upset to see him this afternoon."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You were _here?_ You heard _that?"_

"Well, not everything. We left, of course. But we heard enough."

"I stopped it before it could go to far."

She cocked her head. "Why?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "How much do you know about werewolves, Hermione?"

"Well, I've been reading up on them quite a lot, since—"

"So have I." He cut her off, his voice teeming with bitterness. "Have you gotten to the bit about _mating?_ "

She turned pink. "I haven't. I may have skimmed that section, out of respect for your priv—"

"Werewolves mate for _life_ , Hermione. We choose a mate, we claim them physically, they accept, and that's it. If we'd gone too far today it would have... I'm _never_ forcing Draco into that kind of bond. Stuck with a fucking werewolf for the rest of his life? No. He doesn't deserve that. _No one_ does."

"What about Remus and Sirius? Or Remus and Tonks? They never saw things that way, and neither did you when it was them. Why is this different?" The soft response from his friend made him want to break down.

"I don't—I don't know. I'm _not_ Remus. And it...it doesn't matter anymore." He dropped his gaze.

"You told me yourself that you wanted more with Draco. That you were going to ask him to dinner, that you wanted to try and change your relationship into something official. Something permanent. Why couldn't you still do that?"

"That was _before_ , 'Mione. I'm _damaged_ now. Draco deserves much better than me. This version of me."

A single tear trailed down his cheek, and Hermione jumped on the bed and threw her arms around him.

"Harry James Potter, don't you _dare_ talk like that! You're still you. You're still the hero who saved the entire bloody Wizarding World at seventeen! You're still mine and Ron's best friend, and Rosie's godfather, and the kindest, most caring, most loyal, most courageous, and most loving person I know. And I know it's been really hard lately, but—" She pulled back to meet his gaze and repeated: "You're still _you_ , Harry."

He smiled sadly. "I'm _not_ , though. I've lost too much. I live in fear of the full moon, of the pain, of forgetting my potion and hurting someone I love— I'm more afraid than I've ever been, Hermione. And given the life I've led so far, that's saying something."

The hint of his twisted sense of humor made her smile.

"Look at you, making jokes," She teased, "Draco's already been a good influence. You're awake. You're talking to me about your feelings like a normal person... Let him help you, Harry. He _wants_ to help. Then see how you feel. Can you at least do that?"

"I'm only awake because the git stole all my Dreamless," Harry muttered mutinously.

At this, she laughed aloud. "See what I mean? Good influence."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll let him try to help. But only as a friend, and then..." A pained expression flitted over his face. "Then he can move on and find someone better. Someone whole."

"What if he wants you?" She murmured.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze once again. "He won't."


	4. 3 | Of Night

Draco looked up when his mother cleared her throat pointedly. He'd joined her for breakfast the next morning, as planned, despite the nagging feeling that he needed to get back to Grimmauld Place.

"Draco, darling. Is everything quite alright? You look distressed."

He met her gaze, forcing a smile onto his face. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

"Are you sure? I can ask one of the house elves for—"

"Mother, stop. I'm perfectly fine."

"Is it to do with the mysterious person you were seeing, who subsequently broke your heart?"

He sighed. "How do you even _know_ all that? I didn't tell you anything."

"I'm your mother." She gave him a wry smile. "I can read your face, darling. I could see the happiness when you started seeing him, and the heartbreak when you suddenly stopped."

He stared at her. "So what do you see today, then?"

"Heartbreak again."

"I found something out. I can't share what it is, but he...something happened to him. Something horrible. I didn't know why he ended it before, but now I do. And..." his voice lowered as he choked the words out, "I realized that I'm in love with him."

"Are you going to tell me who it is?"

"I..." He sighed in resignation. "It's Potter, Mum. It's always been Potter."

Narcissa nodded sagely and took a sip of her tea. "I see."

"At school it was just a silly crush. He was handsome, and a hero, and frustratingly good at Quidditch, but now..."

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face. 

"He's still those things, but he's so much more than that. He's considerate, and kind, and clever, and he likes learning new things, and he makes me laugh, and he's easy to talk to—he would listen to me drone on and on about potions nonsense for hours on end as if it was the most interesting thing in the world—and sometimes he would sing for me and I would just..." Once again, he found himself lost for words as a wave of despair washed over him.

His mother smiled gently, reaching for his hand. "What went wrong, sweet dragon?"

"I can't tell you that. It's not my—"

She nodded and released his hand after giving it a quick squeeze. She picked up her teacup again, a knowing look in her eyes. "I heard a rumor when I was out shopping yesterday. A rumor about...Harry." She used his first name carefully, as if she were trying it out.

Draco's eyes widened. "From who?"

"Our old friend Marcia Rushwood, from the Daily Prophet. One of the reporters got suspicious when Harry Potter left the Auror's on medical discharge and disappeared for two months. He started researching the Greyback case, and apparently he just got access to the public record, and, well...she was very excited to run the story, as you can imagine. I didn't know you were...connected...to him. I'm terribly sorry, darling. I couldn't have stopped it even if I'd tried."

She slowly pushed the paper across the table, and Draco gasped.

A HERO NO MORE: HARRY POTTER TURNED WEREWOLF IN GREYBACK'S REVENGE

The article was ignorant and scathing, full of insinuations that, although Harry had rid the world of Fenrir Greyback, he was now going to be just like him.

Draco's stomach clenched painfully as he read, and then fury flooded through him. He felt his face heating, angry tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. It was disgraceful, it was revolting, it was _wrong_.

"Have you seen him? Since the change?"

"Yesterday. Hermione finally told me. I just thought he'd decided he didn't want me, but really he was trying to protect me in his own twisted way. I didn't know."

She shook her head, speaking gently. "He'd have to be out of his mind not to want you."

Draco laughed. "You have to say that. You're my mother."

"That doesn't mean it isn't true, darling. So his... _condition_...it doesn't change how you feel about him?"

Draco shot his mother an indignant look. " _Should_ it?" He challenged, his eyes going as hard as steel.

His mother stared at him, tilting her head to one side curiously. "You've changed."

"My best friend is Muggleborn and I'm in love with Harry-bloody-Potter, who is now a werewolf, and I don't care in the slightest. Seeing Voldemort's demented mind up close during the war showed me just how wrong all of those Pureblood ideals I was raised to believe are. I've rejected them, and I'm a much better person for it. So yes, Mother, I've changed." He finished vehemently.

Narcissa watched him wordlessly as he ranted, her expression unreadable. "I didn't say it was a bad thing," she said softly when she was sure he'd finished.

"You... _what?"_

His mother smiled. "Draco, my sweet boy, can't you see that _I've_ changed too? I've never objected to your friendship with Ms. Granger. If anything, I partially credit her with the sweeping O's you got in your N.E.W.T.s. And as for Harry Potter...well. After everything we've lost after the war, how could you think I'd want anything but your happiness? I don't care who or what he is, as long as he treats you well and makes sure you're safe during the full moon. I just want you to be with someone who makes you happy."

Draco gaped at her. "You really mean that?"

"Of course I do. I love you more than anything in this world. If you love Harry, I'm sure that I could come to love him, too."

"But I...I didn't expect..."

"Much of my personal beliefs have been suppressed throughout the years, Draco. First by fear of my family, with their hatefulness and severity...I saw what they did to Andromeda when she broke the mould. Then in fear of how your father would react if I ever revealed myself to be anything less than the perfect Pureblood wife. We loved each other deeply, you must understand, especially in the beginning. I never feared his wrath, but I desperately feared his rejection. I loved him too much.

"And I never had Andromeda's bravery. At least, not until I was faced with the choice between getting to you and saving Harry Potter, our only chance at freedom and safety, or supporting Lord Voldemort, a man I knew by then was nothing but a cruel dictator."

Draco was rendered speechless by this confession for a full minute.

"Mother, I don't know what to... _thank you."_

A wide, effusive smile split her face. "Of course, darling. Now, I imagine you're quite anxious to see Harry in the wake of this morning's Prophet?"

He stood, still gazing wide-eyed at the mother he'd always adored with a newfound respect.

"Yes. Thank you." He turned and Apparated away without a second thought.

•••••

Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor on the rug in his bedroom, staring blankly into the fireplace, tossing in letter after letter.

One letter turned the fire purple and made it spark dangerously. Harry didn't react. Why should it surprise him that someone had tried to send a hex through the mail? Of _course_ they would.

Another owl flew in the window and dropped a heavy book on his head. Harry caught it, but he didn't toss it directly into the fire like he should have. The title felt like a blow to his stomach.

 _Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live_ by Professor Emerett Picardy

He was still holding the book, idly flipping through it, when Draco quietly entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Harry heard him, had heard him enter the house and make his way up the stairs, in fact, but he didn't turn away from the blazing fire before him.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, just a gift. From one of my many new _admirers_."

He indicated the pile of letters beside him, then tossed the book to Draco, who caught it and turned it over in his hands to read the title. Harry watched as his face turned crimson and contorted into a scowl.

"Who sent you this?" He seethed.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. They didn't feel like including a note for some reason."

Draco forcefully threw the book into the fireplace and cast an Incendio Charm at it for good measure. It burned to ash in seconds.

"They don't print that foul professor's books anymore. He was discredited long ago."

Harry didn't answer, just flicked another letter into the fire. This time it burned green-ish yellow. Undiluted Bubotuber Pus, if the stench of petrol was anything to go by. Draco winced.

Stepping up next to Harry, he sat down cross-legged beside him and gently placed a hand on the other man's knee. "This okay?"

Harry nodded and tossed in another letter. No reaction in the fire this time—just parchment and ink.

After a several silent minutes of letter burning, Harry laced his fingers through Draco's and set their intertwined hands back on his knee. In response, Draco gave his hand a squeeze, but still didn't speak. Once the last of the letters burned, they simply sat together, staring into the flames.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Harry finally murmured, "I was awful to you. You didn't deserve that."

Draco shook his head. "Harry, _no._ You don't need to apologize. You're—"

Harry put up a hand, cutting him off. " _Don't_ , Drake. You've never put up with my shit before, please don't start now. It's unnerving."

Draco shot him a wry grin, then responded with as much dramatic flair as possible. "Fine. You're an insufferable git who should be punished for your impertinence. My mother will hear about this!"

The corners of Harry's mouth turned up into the barest hint of a smile. "Not your father?"

"He's in Azkaban. What can _he_ do? Besides, my father may _look_ scarier, but Mother is by far the more formidable of the two."

"Oh, I believe that." Harry agreed, leaning over to rest his head on Draco's shoulder. "Thank you. For just...being here. For sitting with me."

"It seemed like what you needed."

"It was."

"What do you want to do now?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I should shower. And I suppose I _am_ a bit hungry..."

Draco smiled.

•••••

Draco waited while Harry took a quick shower, smiling fondly at the sight of his dripping curls when he emerged in clean, comfortable clothes, and then they made their way down to the kitchen.

After wolfing down an obscene amount of food provided by an ecstatic Jenkins—his appetite clearly back in full force—Harry started to yawn.

"I think I might," Harry paused to yawn again, revealing straight white teeth with slightly more prominent canines than he'd had before, "need to lie down for a bit."

Draco nodded. "That's fine, I can go—"

Harry shook his head sharply. "No. Please—please stay. Would you just...lie down with me? I promise I won't attack you like I did yesterday."

Draco's eyes glittered. "Did I complain yesterday?"

Harry dropped his gaze, mouth curving into a small, sad smile. "Still, I won't."

Draco followed him up the stairs, his brow creased. Harry seemed significantly better than he'd been the day before, despite the horrific morning he'd had. Surely, taking away his Dreamless hadn't caused this much of a change in him?

They crawled under the covers and Draco wrapped an arm around Harry, his chest pressed firmly against the other man's back. He sighed contentedly and buried his nose in that thick black hair, inhaling the tangy-sweet smell of Harry's shampoo.

"You don't wear your glasses anymore," Draco murmured into the dark mane, his tone questioning.

"Don't need them anymore," Harry responded with a shrug. "Enhanced werewolf senses and all that."

"What's that like? The enhanced senses?"

"Overwhelming," Harry sighed, "especially the sharp hearing and sense of smell. But I'm getting used to it. It gets a bit easier each day."

"I'm sorry."

"It all doesn't seem so bad with you here," Harry murmured sleepily. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Drake. I was just afraid you wouldn't...and I _couldn't_...because...I'm..." He drifted off, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Draco held him and stroked his hair, and after a few minutes, he fell asleep, too.

•••••

Harry was startled out of a pleasant dream by the sound of voices in his head. His vision was dark, but he could hear the conversation quite clearly.

_"You're not the Alpha, Lorcan, you can't tell us what—"_

_"In the absence of the Alpha, the Beta is in charge. Fenrir is_ dead _. Do you really want to challenge me, Nadine?" The responding voice was a man, his tone overtly threatening._

_"You know the magical laws that govern our people, Lorcan. The news has broken, and now the reason for our lack of a leader is clear. Fenrir was killed by another werewolf. That makes him the new Alpha. The mantle has not fallen upon you for this reason." A third, older-sounding female voice responded calmly._

_"Harry Potter? That ignorant pup knows nothing of our ways, Grace. He'll never be the Alpha. I'll kill him if he comes anywhere near us."_

_The woman growled, low in her throat. "You may challenge him in the proper way, as is your right, Lorcan. But if you attempt to kill him on sight, the rest of us will be compelled to protect our Alpha. We will tear you apart."_

_The man, Lorcan, snarled furiously. "I've led our pack for four bloody years since Greyback decided to follow that mad wizard and took the rest of our pack with him to die! And_ now _you want to follow some upstart new werewolf?"_

_"It is in our nature to follow the Alpha, Lorcan. It is a call we cannot resist." A new, deeper voice rumbled._

_"He will be drawn to us soon, and then we can see what happens," the first female stated._

_"Going to get into his pants, Nadine? Try to raise your status and find a new daddy for your little halfbreed brat? We all know you have a thing for Alphas." Lorcan's voice was scathing._

_"Fenrir was not always the monster he became, Lorcan. I won't say I'm not relieved to be free of our bond by his death—I am. But I don't need_ you _or_ anyone _to help me raise my son." Nadine's voice was calm, but laced with quiet fury._

_"That was cruel, Lorcan." A new voice, a younger male by the sound of it, stated._

_Lorcan snarled. "Shut up, Laith. You and your little mate are nothing but a nuisance."_

_"Calm yourself, old friend." The deep, rumbling voice was back. "We will face whatever comes together. As a pack. You will get the chance to challenge for your position."_

_"Fine," Lorcan snapped._

Back in his bed, Harry Potter shot up into a sitting position, gasping for breath. Draco groaned, woken by the abrupt movement beside him.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"I...I have a _werewolf_ _pack_. Fenrir Greyback's pack. I thought they were all killed in the war, but some of them chose not to follow him. And I killed Greyback, so now I'm supposed to take his place. I'm...the new Alpha."

Draco stared at him in shock. "...Oh."


	5. 4 | Take These Broken Wings

Harry's health improved significantly in the days that followed Draco's first couple of visits. He'd been eating and sleeping more normally, and his mood had improved markedly.

They fell into an easy routine. Draco slept at his own flat, but he spent his days with Harry at Grimmauld place. He'd arrive after breakfast and usually stay well until after dinner.

They would eat meals together, play chess or exploding snap, read, nap when Harry got tired, and, most of all, talk. More than they ever had before, and about things they'd never been bold enough to bring up in the past. Now, they talked about anything and everything: Voldemort and the war, Hogwarts and how they'd perceived each other as young teenagers, their vastly different childhoods (a subject that filled Draco with outrage and fury every single time), and, while they scoured for more information each day, about Harry's discovery about Greyback's former wolf pack.

The only things they _didn't_ discuss were their undeniable feelings for each other, and Harry's reluctance to touch his beloved guitar. The instrument had been moved from its place of honor on a stand beside the fireplace to being locked in a case and tossed unceremoniously under the bed. Draco didn't dare ask about it, and Harry didn't bring it up.

Draco and Harry had been poring over the books that they had collected regarding his new species, but the information regarding werewolf packs was frustratingly limited.

"I imagine werewolves haven't been lining up to be interviewed by wizards about the intimacies of their culture and magic," Draco commented, "especially with bastards like Emerett Picardy spewing lies and hate every chance they get. The distrust of wizards is perfectly understandable, even though most of them were wizards or witches before they were turned."

When they had read everything they could, Draco finally convinced Harry it was time to loop in Hermione, which, much to Draco's dismay, also meant looping in her husband.

Three days after Harry learned about his werewolf pack, Ron and Hermione sat in Harry's bedroom with them, discussing the situation.

"So, what exactly does it all mean? What do they want from you?" Hermione's expression was thoughtful. Draco could practically see the wheels turning behind her bright brown eyes as she considered what Harry had told them.

"I—"

"Are you _sure_ it wasn't just a dream, mate?" Ron asked.

Draco felt a surge of irritation. He knew Harry was sure. He was sitting beside Harry on the bed, their backs leaning comfortably against the headboard.

"I don't know," Harry responded, his voice tinged with self-doubt. He leaned over to rest his head against Draco's shoulder in a silent plea for support. Draco curled an arm around his waist and lightly squeezed.

Ron's expression flitted between annoyance and disgust at the blatant show of familiarity. Draco glared at him until he looked away. If the improvement in Harry's mood and general health were any indication, he belonged exactly where he was, and he really didn't care if Weasley approved or not.

It wasn't that he _hated_ Ron, at least, not anymore. They had been in an uneasy truce since he became friends with Hermione while she and Ron were dating. Draco just didn't think they would ever be friends. They were too different, and there was just too much history and mutual dislike there.

He could be civil, however, for Harry and Hermione's sake, and so he drew from his patrician upbringing and spoke in a deceptively pleasant voice. "You said it didn't feel like a normal dream, Harry. You were _sure_."

Harry nodded and Draco felt him relax slightly against him. "Yeah. You're right, I'm sure. But I still don't know what it all _means_. I was hoping you'd read something we haven't." He glanced hopefully at Hermione.

She shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek. "No. But I wonder if werewolves have written books about it for themselves. And where you would find such a book if they had..." Hermione smiled brightly. "I'll see what I can find out. Maybe someone at work will know. I'll ask around."

Harry visibly cringed at the thought, but word about his transformation was out—the damage was already done. Might as well find out what they could now that discretion was no longer a concern.

Harry agreed to let her ask around and see what she could learn from her colleagues.

•••••

A few days after that, Draco arrived at Grimmauld Place to find Harry still in bed, a barely-touched breakfast tray on the bedside table. His skin was tinged with grey, and dark circles had appeared beneath his eyes overnight.

Draco sat beside him on the bed. "You alright?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, just tired. Full moon's in a couple days."

Draco slid under the covers with him, looking into Harry's face with concern. "You should eat something. Drink some water, at least. It'll help."

"Maybe later."

"What do you want to do?"

Harry slid forward and buried his face in Draco's shirt, catching him off guard. He adjusted quickly, wrapping an arm around him, the other hand reaching up to card through his dark hair.

"What's wrong?"

"I—" Harry's voice caught. "I'm scared, Drake. I'm not—I mean, I've been taking my potion, so I'll be in control of my senses, I won't hurt anyone, but—"

Hermione's voice echoed in Draco's mind. _He says it makes the Cruciatus Curse feel like a punch on the arm by comparison..._

"It's painful," Draco supplied.

"Unimaginably," Harry murmured against his chest. "I've never felt anything like it."

"I'm sorry."

"Is it...pathetic? To be scared?"

Draco shook his head. "No, Harry. It's not. Not in the slightest."

When he didn't get a response, he slid a hand under Harry's chin and gently tipped his face up, forcing him to meet his gaze. Harry's typically bright eyes were dull, and they reflected doubt again, with a hint of self-loathing that made Draco want to scream.

Instead, he dipped his head and kissed Harry firmly on the lips.

Harry stilled and turned away. "I can't, Drake."

"Why?" Draco asked simply, his tone questioning, but free of the anger and hurt that had painted his features when Harry had rejected him a week earlier.

Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Harry? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Because I thought...?"

Harry's vivid green eyes snapped open in shock. "Not attracted to...are you _mental?_ You're the most—you're the only—you're _gorgeous_ , Draco. _Surely_ you know that?"

Draco shrugged. "Well, you haven't been interested lately, so..."

Harry sat up and abruptly tugged his own shirt up and over his head, cutting Draco off. He gasped involuntarily at the sight that greeted him.

The wound in Harry's shoulder still looked horrific, even after nearly three months of healing. The bite marks were deep, leaving large chunks of flesh missing. While the skin had been healed over, the healing appeared to only be skin deep. Beneath the jagged but unbroken, skin, the flesh was mottled red and purple, with dark purple tendrils stretching out in every direction from the wound, the longest and darkest of them running down from his right shoulder all the way to his heart.

Draco reached out, fingers hovering over the discolored and damaged skin. He hesitated, looking up into Harry's face. "May I touch you?"

Harry was watching him intently, eyes shining, his expression shuttered but not completely hiding the anguish he felt. He nodded once, and Draco's cool, slender fingers brushed over his skin.

"Does it hurt?"

"No," Harry rasped. "Not anymore."

Draco gently trailed his hands over his arm, chest, shoulder, upper back... He replaced his hands with his mouth and Harry tipped his head back, releasing a low moan. His fists were clenched tightly, as if he were at war with himself. This was clearly _not_ the reaction he'd expected when he'd taken his shirt off.

Draco felt it: the moment when he gave in. Harry's entire body relaxed, and he let him push him onto his back and continue pressing lingering kisses over his skin, tentative fingers sliding into Draco's hair. After a minute or so, those fingers tugged lightly, guiding Draco's face up so that their lips could meet again.

This kiss was different from the frenzied, desperate kiss from a week before. This kiss was slow and sweet, as mouths molded together perfectly, and tongues slipped out to explore and tangle together. Pleasantly familiar, yet full of unspoken meaning.

Draco pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. "You thought I wouldn't find _you_ attractive anymore?" He asked softly.

They locked eyes for a few seconds, and then Harry turned away again, head jerking in a quick nod. "It's repulsive, Drake. I can't even look at it in the mirror. I don't know how you could touch me, or even look at me, without retching. I truly don't."

Draco sat up. "Because it's _you_ , Harry. And wounds heal, with time. They don't change who you are."

Harry barked out an incredulous laugh. "This one literally changed my species."

Draco smiled and tipped his head, conceding. "Okay, so it did change you physically. But not inside. You're still you, Harry. I'm still..." This was entering forbidden topic number one territory, but Draco forced himself to continue. "I'm still...attracted to you." _In love with you. Damnit. He couldn't do it. He was a bloody coward, and he knew it._

Harry smiled weakly back, but it wasn't very convincing; His eyes still had that haunted look about them. "Thanks, Drake."

They sat in silence for a little while before Harry drifted off. Draco stayed with him, moving to an armchair by the fire and reading a Potions Theory book he'd picked up on his last trip to Diagon Alley.

•••••

The next day was much of the same, except in the late afternoon Harry drifted off and dreamt of a familiar pack of werewolves.

_"That's very disturbing news," A young woman said softly, a slight tremor of fear in her voice. Mia-Rose, Harry thought he recognized her voice from previous visions._

_"Perhaps we should all stay indoors tomorrow night." This was Laith. Or possibly Mathias? Telling the twins apart was still difficult._

_"Well, what does Lorcan say?"_

_"He won't like it. Kasper, you know Lorcan is unstable. He grows more unpredictable and aggressive by the day. Perhaps we should seek out Harry—" This voice sounded like Nadine._

_"Shh, quiet. He'll kill you without hesitation if he hears you saying something like that. No. The new Alpha needs to come to us." Grace again._

_"Perhaps Lorcan just needs a calming force, Nadine. Someone to—" Kasper's deep voice spoke again._

_"I won't bond with him, Kasper."_

_"Well, then. We'll just have to hope he comes to his senses. Or that the new Alpha is drawn to us soon."_

_"How long will it— ?"_

_"I don't know. It's an unusual situation. Typically a new Alpha is determined in a formal challenge, and they've transformed several times by then. But since Potter was human when he killed Fenrir and turned for the first time after that... just don't know."_

_"Okay, everyone try to stay calm. I'll talk to Lorcan about using the old basement cells to keep us all safe this month while we figure out what's going on. We'll be fine."_

Harry woke abruptly and jolted upright, irrational fear still flooding through him. He was breathing hard, his wand already in his hand before he became aware of a tight grip on his wrist and a panicked voice speaking his name. He opened his eyes and his surroundings came into focus.

"Harry! Harry! Are you okay?"

The fear that wasn't his dissipated, and he physically relaxed, slowly lowering his wand. "Oh... Draco. Sorry. Bad dream."

"Nightmare, or the wolves again?"

"Wolves. They're really scared about something. I don't know what, but I could feel their fear. Just like..." He trailed off with a pained expression, a wave of nausea hitting him hard and making his stomach turn.

"Like... ?"

_"Voldemort."_

"Volde— _what?_ Harry, what are you talking about?"

"When he was alive I would have visions that were, erm, a lot like this. I could feel his emotions then, too."

Draco looked stricken. "Starting when?"

"Right before he came back. Um. Fourth year?"

"Fourteen," Draco breathed, "you were dealing with _that_ at fourteen bloody years old."

Harry nodded, his face pale. "This is a bit different, but it's still—oh, _shit_ —" He lunged off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he began to be sick. Draco followed him, crouching beside Harry and setting a tentative hand on his back.

"Sorry," Harry groaned when he was done. "That was gross. You didn't need to—"

Draco shook his head. "It's okay." He conjured a glass of water and passed it over to him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I just feel..." Harry took a swallow of water and pulled a face. "I feel feverish. And my head hurts."

"Could you be getting sick?"

"Maybe. I felt alright earlier, before I fell asleep."

"Hm. Well, let's get you back to bed." Draco slid an arm around Harry and helped him to his feet. He hauled him all the way over to the bed and helped him under the covers.

"Thanks."

Draco smiled and lightly touched Harry's burning forehead. "You're welcome. I'm going to run home and get a couple of potions that might help, okay?"

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, fighting back another wave of nausea.

•••••

An hour later, Draco was back, carrying a small case with a few potions from his personal store: Anti-Nausea, Fever-Reduction, and Pain-Reliever. None of them would fix the underlying issue causing Harry to feel sick, whatever it was, but they could lessen the symptoms for a while.

Harry took the potions without hesitation, then curled against Draco and promptly fell asleep.

When he woke, he managed to eat some of the dinner Jenkins provided and the color had come back to his face.

They played a game of chess, which Harry lost spectacularly, as usual, and then Draco announced that it was time for him to go home.

Harry crawled back into bed and Draco ran a hand over his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just—" He caught Draco's hand and brought it to his lips. "Thank you."

"For what?" Draco breathed, closing his eyes as Harry kissed the pads of each finger, then pressed a kiss to his palm, then another to the inside of his wrist. "What are you doing?" He bit his lip as Harry gently tugged him closer.

Harry's eyes dropped to Draco's mouth. "I don't know. I just—I miss you. Kiss me again?"

Draco froze. Harry didn't know what he wanted. He'd rejected him. Recently. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. He knew he shouldn't, but... Fuck, but Draco _wanted_ to kiss him. So he leaned over the side of the bed and kissed him.

The first brush of their lips was hesitant. Harry brought a hand up to Draco's cheek. Draco made a soft sound and pressed closer. Harry grabbed Draco around the waist and tugged him on top of him on the bed.

"Oof! Harry, what—?"

"C'mere." Harry pulled him into a rough, heated kiss, stopping abruptly to ask, "wait, sorry, is this okay?"

Draco melted against him with a low moan and a murmured, "yes."

"Circe, you're beautiful, Drake. I want you so much."

"I think the fever is making you delirious," Draco chuckled, trailing kisses down Harry's neck.

"I'm not delirious," Harry murmured. "I'm feeling much better now, I'll have you know. Thanks to you." 

"Mm, still a bloody furnace though," Draco teased, sliding his hands up the back of Harry's shirt.

"Sorry," Harry muttered self-consciously.

"I'm just teasing. I don't mind."

Harry flipped them over, lifting Draco's shirt and laving kisses over his lightly muscled stomach. "Good, because I can't seem to keep my hands off of you tonight."

"Then _don't,_ " Draco gasped. "I want you too, Harry. _Please_."

Harry felt his stomach clench painfully, even as desire flooded through him. He stilled, then pulled away, and Draco groaned in frustration. "Not again! What the hell is wrong _now?_ "

Harry sat up, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Sorry. We need to talk first, Drake. There's something you don't know."

Draco sat up too, their knees brushing as he turned to face him. "What don't I know?"

"Werewolves can't have casual sex. When we...er, engage in...um, intercourse...we create a lasting bond. That person becomes our—" Harry's nose wrinkled at the term as he said it, "—mate. For life."

Draco stared blankly at him for a moment, then he shrugged. "Okay."

Harry gaped at him. " _Okay?_ Are you _insane?_ We haven't even been on a date, and you would...with _me?_ "

Draco blushed furiously. "Well, I mean, you have to know by now that I have feelings for you, Harry. It wasn't really very casual for me...you know, before."

Harry smiled softly, trailing the back of one hand down Draco's cheek. "I was going to ask you out to dinner that night. The night that I... I wanted more with you, too. But you fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake you, and then I got sent to chase after Greyback, and...well, you know what happened after that. I guess what I'm saying is, it wasn't casual for me, either."

"But?"

"This is different. This is too much to ask of you right now. A lifelong commitment is just _too much for me to ask_ , Drake. Especially a lifelong commitment to a werewolf. That's...not an easy life. You have to know that. Look at how things have been lately. How _I've_ been."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. What if we just tried actually dating and we decide from there? I want to be with _you_ , Harry. I haven't been with anyone else since we took up together. I haven't _wanted_ anyone else."

Harry bit his lower lip nervously. "I suppose we could try it. I, er, I I haven't been with anyone else, either. Not since before that first night together."

Draco laughed, setting a hand on Harry's thigh. " _Why_ did we try to pretend this was some sort of friends-with-benefits situation if we both just wanted to be together?"

"I dunno...pride?" Harry grinned. "It was _your_ idea."

"That _you_ agreed to! You—" Draco protested, but Harry cut him off with a kiss, and neither of them spoke for a while.

When he pulled back, Draco's eyes had a wicked glint in them. "So. Did those werewolf books say just how far you _can_ go without triggering that eternal-mate-bond-thing?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed breathlessly, "They were remarkably clear on that for some reason."

"Good."

Harry laughed again as Draco pulled him into another passionate kiss.

•••••

The next morning Harry still looked pale and sickly, but he was in surprisingly good spirits when Draco arrived at Grimmauld Place with additional doses of the potions that he'd taken the day before.

"I'll owl Hermione and cancel our lunch today," Draco murmured as he perched on the edge of the bed, brushing Harry's dark hair away from his face with his fingers.

Harry shook his head. "No, go—I'm just going to sleep this afternoon," he swallowed the dose of Anti-Nausea and pulled a face at the strong ginger flavor, "prepare for tonight, you know? Go see Hermione and Rosie and give them both a kiss for me, okay?"

"Okay. But only if you eat something this morning before you take your Wolfsbane potion. It upsets your stomach even more if you don't. The Anti-Nausea won't be strong enough to prevent that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That Potion tastes like death. Thinking about drinking it doesn't do much for the appetite this week."

"I know. But you'll feel better if you do. Just some toast?" Draco cajoled, and Harry relented.

"Fine. But then you'll go see our friends?"

"When it's time," Draco smiled, "and then I'll be back in the morning to check on you, okay?"

Harry smiled weakly back. "You're being extra bossy today."

"You like it."

"I do," Harry chuckled softly, closing his eyes and leaning into Draco's touch as he continued playing with his hair.

•••••

A few hours later, Draco Apparated to the Granger-Weasley's and knocked on the door. Hermione greeted him with a smile.

"Draco! Hi! I wasn't sure if you were coming today. Ron took the day off, but he's upstairs with Rosie, and I'm sure it's fine, come in! How is Harry?"

"Merlin! Slow down 'Mione!" Draco laughed as he stepped past her into the house. "Harry is alright. He told me I should come. He's asleep at the moment. Resting up before tonight."

"Right. I'm glad he's okay. Let's go make lunch. What are you in the mood for?"

Draco followed her into the kitchen and helped prepare sandwiches for themselves, as well as a couple for Ron, and mashed up carrots for Rosie.

"Listen," Draco said softly as he set the plates on the table, "before Weasley comes down—" Hermione shot him a reproachful look at the continued use of her husband's last name, which he blatantly ignored. "—Can I show you something?"

Hermione nodded, and he pulled out his wand.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

Instead of the snow leopard Hermione had seen before, and was expecting, an enormous silver stag leapt from Draco's wand and canted around the room once before he dismissed it with another quick wave of his wand.

"I'm not sure when it changed," Draco whispered.

Hermione's eyes were wide. "Wow. I thought, I mean, I was pretty sure, but...you really are in love with him, aren't you?"

Draco blushed, but when he met her gaze, he smiled. "Yeah, I am."

She threw her arms around him. "I'm so happy for you, Draco! Did you—has anything happened while you and Harry have been...?"

"We're not _mated_ , if that's what you're asking," Draco drawled as they separated and sat down at the table. "Were you going to tell me about that, by the way?"

She giggled in a very un-Hermione-ish way. "I figured I'd let Harry tell you. Was he as awkward as I've imagined?"

"Far worse, I'm sure. The fact that he waited until we were vigorously snogging in bed and I was quite literally begging him to fuck me certainly didn't help."

She slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, _Harry_ ," she groaned.

Draco laughed. "It's okay. We're okay. Harry and I, I mean."

"But you said..."

"We're not—we didn't. But I _did_ convince him that we could try for a somewhat normal relationship and go from there. As long as he doesn't, you know, _stick it to me_ , we should be able to do that."

"You have such a romantic way of expressing yourself, Draco," Hermione teased with an amused shake of her head. "So. You and Harry are in an actual relationship now. That's good. _Would_ you, then?"

"Would I what?"

"Um, mate with him? Merlin, there just _has_ to be a less awkward term for that."

Draco looked right into her eyes as he answered, wanting her to know exactly how serious he was. "One of the books used the word 'bond.' And _yes_. In a _heartbeat_ , 'Mione. I'd have done it already if he'd agree to it. I know he's afraid that I'll regret it, that he thinks he's not worthy of me or something stupid like that, but I won't. I would _never_. How could I? I'm hopelessly in love with him. I have been for a while now."

She smiled at him, gently taking his hand and squeezing. "I'm sure he feels the same w—"

"You're _WHAT?_ " Ron Weasley was standing at the bottom of the stairs, balancing Rose on his hip. She started to cry at his loud outburst.

"Honestly, Ronald. You scared the baby." Hermione took the wailing child from him and started gently rocking and shushing her to calm her down.

Ron was still staring intently at Draco, his fists clenched and his face pale, making his freckles even more prominent than usual.

"Repeat what you just said, Malfoy," Weasley spat.

Draco couldn't quite keep the sneer off of his face as he answered, meeting Ron's glare with one of his own.

"I'm in love with Harry."

"I don't believe you."

Hermione put a hand on her husband's arm. "Ron. Stop."

Draco stood. "How can I prove it?" His voice was low and dangerous, his rage simmering just below the surface.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "You can't. I don't _trust_ you, I don't _like_ you, and you'll _never_ be good enough for him."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

Draco realized he was shaking, and suddenly he desperately needed to get out of there. He took a deep breath, spun on his heel, and walked towards the front door. "Regardless, it's the truth."

When he reached the door, he turned and pointed his wand right at Ron Weasley's chest.

"Draco!" Hermione screeched, her voice rising an entire octave as she stared at him in horror.

He thought of Harry, and the way he'd looked at him when he'd walked into his room that morning, pure adoration in his brilliant green eyes, how his warm lips felt pressed against Draco's... " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

The glowing stag leapt from his wand and canted around the room once more before dissolving into shimmering mist and then disappearing altogether. Ron had stumbled backward, his expression stricken. Rose giggled in her mother's arms and clapped in delight.

Draco turned and walked out the door, shutting it softly behind him. Once outside, he Apparated back to his own flat, collapsed onto the sofa, and covered his face with his hands.

"Well fuck," he groaned, " _that_ could have gone better."


	6. 5 | And Learn to Fly

After a horrific night of transformation, his third in total, Harry woke up at sunrise the next morning on the cold wood floor of his bedroom, face down. His clothes were a tangled, shredded mess of fabric beside him. Light tremors were racking through his body, and he shivered involuntarily in remembered pain. He still ached, still felt nauseated and clammy and weak, but the worst of it was over now.

With a longing look at his bed, he attempted to push himself up off the ground, but his limbs wouldn't listen. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and tried again. He made it up onto his hands and knees before his strength gave out and his face collided painfully with the hard floor.

"Shit." With a resigned glance at the door, Harry sighed and murmured softly, "Jenkins?"

The house elf appeared beside him with a noisy _pop_.

"Oh, _sir_ ," the elf said sympathetically, seemingly completely unfazed by Harry's appearance, "you is needing help into bed?"

Harry winced, then nodded, feeling extraordinarily pathetic.

Jenkins stepped forward and took his hand. Another "pop," and the elf had Apparated them across the room, landing with Harry on the bed and himself standing at his bedside. The elf snapped his fingers and the covers wrapped themselves over Harry up to his chin.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, swallowing hard.

"Does sir need anything else? Food? Water?"

"No. Thank you, Jenkins."

Draco arrived a few minutes later, and Harry was grateful he'd sought the house elf's help. He still didn't want Draco to see him like that.

Draco sat up in the bed and let Harry curl up with his head in his lap, running his slender fingers over Harry's shoulders and back and through his hair, and soon Harry was fast asleep again.

•••••

Draco looked up when the door creaked open and Hermione slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.

"Hi," she whispered awkwardly, "how is he?"

"Fine, just tired," Draco whispered back.

She walked closer and summoned one of the chairs by the fireplace to sit in beside the bed. "I'm really sorry about Ron yesterday," she murmured.

"It's fine, 'Mione," he sighed.

"I've had a talk with him. He knew you and Harry were shagging, but he didn't think it was anything beyond that. Overhearing us talking about... you know, _that_... it shocked him. He's going to need some time to adjust, but he'll come around."

"I couldn't possibly care less what Weasley thinks of my relationship with Harry, Hermione." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Harry does," she quipped.

"Harry didn't even tell him about any of it!" He hissed back.

She folded her arms and looked him right in the eye. "Exactly."

•••••

Harry woke to the sound of angry, hushed voices.

"I cannot _believe_ you pointed your wand at my husband yesterday. In front of our child no less, you insensitive git!"

"I didn't do anything to him! And he was being a complete arse! I've done nothing but care about and help Harry since things started between us. I've already apologized to Weasley for my past behavior, I've been polite to him all these years when we've come in contact through my friendship with you, yet somehow I'm _still_ the villain—"

"He was overreacting! He's protective of his best friend, especially right now. But he could have arrested you for pointing your wand at an Auror, you know that, right? He was so furious, he very nearly did. How much help would you be to Harry from Azkaban, Draco?"

Draco was rolling his eyes, Harry didn't even have to look at him to know. "Oh, please. I cast a bloody Patronus at him. No one could convict me for that and have it stick."

Harry's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the conversation, and Draco noticed.

"Harry, love? Are you awake?"

"Yeah, barely. Did you just say you cast a Patronus Charm at someone yesterday? He asked, rubbing his eyes and trying to sit up. He groaned and tipped over sideways into Draco's lap. "Oh. Everything still hurts. Hi, Hermione."

"Hello Harry!" Her voice was overly-cheery, her smile practically plastered on her face.

He caught the strange look passing between his friend and his boyfriend, and felt a twinge of annoyance. "What's going on? What happened yesterday?"

Draco glared at Hermione and pulled his lips into a tight line, leaving it to her to try and explain.

"Draco and Ron sort of... Had a row yesterday. Ron overheard us talking about your relationship, and he... Well, he..."

"Told me he still hates me and that I'll never be good enough for you," Draco finished for her with a scowl.

"He didn't say he hated you, he said he didn't like you!"

"Oh right, like _that's_ any better!" Draco scoffed.

Harry watched his friends anxiously, his gaze flitting between them.

"He didn't mean it! He was just upset!"

"Like hell he didn't!"

"Stop! This is my fault." Harry quickly interrupted Hermione's angry retort.

They both turned to look at him.

"I should have talked to Ron about all of this sooner. I put it off because I knew he wouldn't take it well, but that was a mistake. I'll talk to him and sort it out between us. I'm really sorry, Drake, he shouldn't have said those things to you."

Draco took a deep breath and released it slowly. "It's alright. I'm just—I'm on edge. I'm going to go out for a bit."

Hermione walked over to the bed and awkwardly hugged him. "I'm sorry, Draco."

He tried to smile at her when she pulled away, but it looked more like a grimace. "It's alright," he repeated. "I'll go, let you two talk. I'll be back."

He slid out from under Harry, ignoring his weak protests, and climbed off the bed. He paused at the door and looked back. "Need anything while I'm out?"

Harry shook his head, trying to read Draco's carefully masked expression. "No, just... Come back soon, okay?"

He nodded and left.

Hermione sighed and sat back in her chair.

"How bad was it yesterday, 'Mione?" Harry asked, looking up at her from the bed.

"It was..." She hesitated, biting her lower lip, "pretty bad. Ron does feel bad about what he said, if it helps."

Harry sighed. "I don't know if it does or not, but I'm worried about Draco. It's been an intense few days. He's been so focused on my health, but I know it's been hard on him, too."

She nodded. "What's happened?"

Harry filled her in on the latest werewolf vision, and on his trepidation at entering a relationship with everything going on, despite being completely and hopelessly in love with Draco, a statement that made her grin knowingly, for some reason.

•••••

Hermione stayed with Harry for several hours, talking and reading and talking some more about the things she discovered while reading. Harry appreciated it, although it was a bit tiring.

When she left, she told him that she would send Ron over once she got home, so it was no surprise when Ron, still wearing his crimson Auror robes, opened the door and strode into Harry's bedroom, plopping himself down in the chair his wife had occupied previously.

"Hermione said you wanted to talk."

Harry was sitting up, a tray loaded with food and sweets sitting across his lap. "Yeah, I do. But first—Chocolate frog?"

He grabbed one off the tray and tossed it to Ron, who caught it with a small smile. "Thanks." He immediately unwrapped it and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

Ron tossed the card back to Harry without looking at it. Harry caught it and found his own face staring back at him. With a grimace and a flick of his hand, he sent it careening into the fireplace.

"Already have that one?"

"Already see that face every time I look in a bloody mirror."

"What? I keep every single one I get of me! I love them!" Ron laughed.

"Of course you do," Harry teased, grinning back.

"I miss you, mate," Ron said softly, his expression turning serious. "At work, it's not the same. And it feels like... I've been replaced. By _Draco-fucking-Malfoy_ , of all people. And I didn't even know it was happening."

Harry felt a rush of guilt. "I'm sorry, Ron. I meant to tell you. I didn't know how you would react, so I put it off. And I fell in love with him so slowly, I was completely caught off guard by it when I finally realized."

"So you _are_ in love with him," Ron said solemnly.

"I am. But Ron, you're still my best friend! You _have_ to know that. You're not replaceable, you never have been. I've missed you, too. I know I haven't been myself since Greyback bit me, but I'm finally getting there. And that's mostly because of Draco. So can you... Would you... Please try to get along with him? Give him a chance? He's not the person we knew at school."

Ron nodded slowly. "I suppose I can try. It just hurt, you know? Finding out about you two the way that I did."

"I know, I'm really sorry Ron. That was completely my fault, though. Don't blame Draco because I messed up."

"I can try. You _do_ seem better this afternoon than you have when I've come over after your last couple transformations," Ron commented.

Harry grinned. "I feel better, too. Well enough to play a game of Exploding Snap, if you're up for the challenge?"

"Oh, you're on!"

•••••

Harry took a nap after Ron left, and found himself listening to another panicked conversation among the werewolves, this time tinged with grief.

_"How did this happen?"_

_"We told you this could happen!" An angry voice retorted. Mathias, Harry was pretty sure._

_"I WILL NOT BE CAGED LIKE SOME ANIMAL! The first voice bellowed. Harry could safely guess who it belonged to: Lorcan._

_"But it's not safe!" A new, soft voice interjected. "It's never been safe for anyone who could come across us, and now it's not safe for us, either."_

_Lorcan growled, but didn't respond._

_"Sofia is right. We should consider staying indoors next month," Kasper stated calmly, "we simply cannot afford to lose any more of us. Losing Martin is a terrible tragedy. We were forewarned, we should have listened."_

_Harry didn't need to see Lorcan's face to know he was annoyed by this pronouncement. But he seemed to respect Kasper, because he bit back an angry retort, even though Harry could feel the rage coming off of him in waves._

_"I'll consider it," Lorcan snarled, and then he stormed away, leaving the others confused and devastated._

Harry woke slowly this time, for the first time after one of these strange visions, to a familiar scent and a hand in his hair.

"You're back," he murmured, rolling over to look up at Draco.

Draco smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "Hi. Yeah, sorry."

"'S okay. Where did you go?"

"Diagon. Got some potions ingredients, then went home and put them away. Organized my lab a bit. Read a letter from a friend and wrote back. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," Harry smiled. "And quite a bit better."

"Good. Let's get you some food then."

As they ate in the kitchen, Harry asked, "who did you write to?"

"Oh. Erm. Pansy. Pansy Parkinson."

Harry cocked his head to one side. "Ah. And... How is she?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I don't know. She's one of your oldest friends. I should probably get to know her at some point, if we're serious about this."

Draco's expression hardened. " _If?_ "

"I didn't mean it like that!" Harry protested quickly. "I just thought... I want to meet your friends, I guess. Or re-meet them. Can we invite her over?"

"You want to invite over the woman who wanted to turn you over to the Dark Lord?" Draco asked incredulously. "For what? A friendly dinner?"

"Erm... Yes?"

"And you're sure about this..."

"Yeah, I am. So will you invite her?"

"I suppose so," Draco conceded. "If you really want to." 

Harry grinned and leaned over to kiss him. "Thanks."

•••••

A week later, Ron and Harry made plans to have a drink together at Grimmauld Place, "like the good old days," Ron had said.

Ron threw his Auror robes over one of the kitchen chairs and smiled awkwardly at Harry.

"So, where's the ferret?"

"Don't call him that," Harry snapped. "And he's just upstairs in the dining room."

"But he—"

"Do you have any idea how traumatic that was? It took months for him to fully recover afterward, no matter the brave face he put on so no one would know. The real Moody never would have done something like that—It was evil and cruel, not funny."

Ron looked horrified. "I... I didn't know. I'm sorry—"

Harry softened, reaching out to put a hand on Ron's arm. "It's okay. I didn't either, until he told me. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"I won't call him that again, promise."

"Thanks. So, drink?" Harry opened one of the kitchen cupboards, "I have butterbeer, a couple bottles of wine, Ogden's firewhisky, giggle water for some reason, Merlin only knows why..."

"Actually, I was thinking we could go out tonight. You know that pub we used to go to all the time?"

Harry froze. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, I haven't—"

"Well, no time like the present, then. Right?" Ron said cheerfully.

"I don't know how people will react—"

"So wear a Glamour! It'll be fine!"

Harry swallowed nervously. But the last time he'd let Ron coerce him into going out, he'd ended up in bed with Draco, which had been an incredible turn of events in his life. So maybe he just needed to just relax and take a chance again. He couldn't be afraid of the outside world forever.

"Alright. I'll go tell Draco and put on a Glamour and then we can go."

Draco looked up from the book he was reading when Harry walked in. He'd been working on a theory for a new potion for the past few days, several books and notes spread out across the table in front of him.

"Hey, how are things with Weasley? I thought I heard him come through the kitchen Floo?"

"He did," Harry smiled nervously. "Um, I just wanted to let you know... We're going to go out instead of having a drink here."

Draco stared at him. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I know how apprehensive you've been about—"

"He doesn't need your _permission_ , Malfoy." Ron spoke from the doorway.

Draco glared at him. "I'm well aware of that, Weasley _._ I'm just concerned, because I know—"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on, Harry. Just put your Glamour on, and let's go."

Harry kissed Draco's cheek. "It'll be alright, Drake. Just don't research all night, okay? You need a break. I'll go use the bathroom mirror and cast a Glamour Charm. Be right back."

He stepped past Ron through the doorway. Ron moved to follow, but Draco called him back.

"Weasley."

Ron stopped and turned to look at him.

"Just watch out for him, alright?" Draco said softly.

"He's not some delicate butterfly, you know." Ron snapped. "He fought and killed _Voldemort_. He was an _Auror_ until recently—"

"He also hasn't been himself lately, and he's sensitive about the anti-werewolf shit, you know that, and he's been having more of those strange visions and sometimes they make him—"

Ron cut him off with a raised hand. "Okay, okay. I'll keep an eye on him, alright? Merlin, you sound like my mother."

Draco shot him a nasty look, but was prevented from responding by Harry's return.

"How do I look?" He asked, indicating his light-brown hair, long nose, hazel eyes, and scar-free forehead.

"Not like Harry Potter!" Ron crowed.

Draco gave him a faint smile. "No one will recognize you looking like that, just make sure it stays on."

Ron pointedly looked away when Harry kissed Draco goodbye, and then they were off.

One quick Apparation later, and they were outside their favorite pub. A few short minutes after that they were seated at a table, drinks in hand.

Harry sipped his butterbeer, watching his best friend's face. "So... How's work?"

Ron sighed. "Not the same without you, that's for sure. You remember that git McDougal from the Department? That's who I'm partnered with now. Prat barely helps with our casework. Keeps going on about some secret task force he's on, claiming he doesn't have _time_ for paperwork." Ron rolled his eyes. "I don't understand why you quit, anyway. I mean, I know you would have to take time off around the full moon, but it seems to me like your enhanced senses would be an asset more than anything... What?"

Ron stopped talking when he caught sight of the look on Harry's face. His stomach had dropped almost painfully at the realization: _Ron didn't know._

His former boss's face appeared in his memory, his expression cold and detached, "I'm sorry, Potter. We just can't have a werewolf on the Auror Force, I'm sure you understand. It's just not safe. How unfortunate, you were one of the best, you know, but..."

"I didn't _quit_ , Ron."

"But Robards said..."

"It was a cover story. To 'allow me to keep my dignity, out of respect for my years of service,'" Harry choked out.

"Oh." Ron looked guilty. "I'm so sorry, mate. I didn't know. I still don't understand _why—_ "

"It doesn't matter," Harry sighed. "Let's talk about something else."

"Er, okay. How are things with you? Been working on the house at all?"

"Well, no. But Draco and I have been researching—"

"I _really_ don't want to talk about Malfoy right now, Harry."

"Oh, er, okay." Harry finished his drink and set it on the table.

Ron downed the rest of his in one go. "Right. Next round's on me." He rapped a hand awkwardly on the table and stood.

Harry felt a surge of rage, followed by a disconcerting amount of fear. He leaned forward to rest his head on his folded arms on top of the table as the room around him spun.

_"You can't do this! We've nowhere else to go! And you're still not the Alpha."_

_"Not yet, but I will be Nadine, and when I am, you will either submit... Or you and your son will face the consequences."_

_"I hate you."_

_"Then you've made your choice."_

Harry's head swam. He groaned softly and scrubbed his face with his hands before lowering them and glancing around at the dingy bar, hoping no one had noticed his odd behavior.

"Harry Potter?"

The voice came from his left, and Harry looked up, surprised. His glamour must have slipped when he'd lost focus. "Yes?"

A tall, portly man with steely blue eyes and a red face glared down at him.

The man's eyes widened for a moment, and then his face hardened. "I'm the owner here, and I think you should leave. We don't serve your kind here."

Harry gaped at him for a moment. "I... It's not the full moon, you don't need to worry about..."

The man's nostrils flared. "That's not the problem, Mr. Potter. We. Don't. Serve. Your. Kind. Here. Understand? Everyone here knows what you are now. Leave, before I get security involved and wands are drawn."

"What's going on?" Ron had come up behind the man, two tumblers of firewhisky in his hands.

The bar owner turned to sneer at him. "Get your pet werewolf out of my bar."

Ron bristled. "My _what?"_

"I said, GET YOUR WEREWOLF _OUT OF MY BAR!"_

Anyone who might not have noticed the interaction before was certainly paying attention now, and Harry's stomach turned uncomfortably. Many of the onlookers were hostile, a few people had pity in their eyes, which was even worse somehow, and the rest were watching with interest, as if it were an exciting show.

Ron set the drinks on the nearest table and drew his wand.

"That's the Savior of the Wizarding World you're talking to, or have you already forgotten?"

"I don't care _who_ he is, I care _what_ he is. He's a vicious beast who should be put down, no matter what he's done in the past. He's a _freak_. An _abomination_. He's unstable, he could _hurt_ someone—"

"He saved your arse from Voldemort, you ungrateful bastard," Ron snapped. "HE SAVED _ALL_ YOUR ARSES!" He glanced around the room at the crowd of onlookers who had collectively winced at his use of Voldemort's name.

Harry stood abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor. The bar owner flinched away from him, but he just dropped a few Sickles on the table and looked at Ron.

"It's fine, Ron. Let's go."

He glanced at the stunned bar owner, all fight gone out of him. "Sorry. I'll — I'll go." Harry made his way out the door, not looking back to see if his best friend was following, painfully aware of all of the eyes on him as he left.

With one last vicious glare around at the bar owner and all of the patrons inside, Ron scrambled after him, catching him by the arm when he caught up to him in the street.

"Harry!"

Harry turned and stared blankly at him.

"Listen, that guy was out of order, alright? It's not, you're not—Don't listen to people like that, okay? We can go somewhere else, we can—"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's alright. I'm tired, I'm going to Apparate home. I'll see you later."

Ron nodded and stepped forward, attempting to hug a stiff, unresponsive Harry. Ron drew back and awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, shifting awkwardly in place. "Sorry, Harry. I s'pose this wasn't such a great idea."

Harry attempted a weak smile. "S'pose not." He turned on the spot and Apparated away.

•••••

Draco knew it had gone badly the second Harry walked into Grimmauld Place. For one thing, Harry was home far too early and far too sober for it to have been a successful Weasley-Potter night out (Draco had been witness to the after-effects of those on more than one occasion since he and Harry had become friends, Extra-Strength Hangover Potion in hand), and for another, Harry had dropped his Glamour and he looked... _Devastated_.

Draco hurried over to him, meeting him in the entryway. "Harry? What happened, love?"

Harry shook his head and walked past him toward the stairs.

Draco followed him, brow creased with concern. "Are you okay? What do you need?"

"Bed."

"Okay, do you want...?"

Harry continued to his bedroom, stripping down to his underwear and leaving clothes on the floor as he went. He crawled under the covers and buried his face in the pillow.

After a moment he finally lifted his head to look at Draco and ask, "Do you have any Dreamless in your potions kit? Just for tonight? I don't want to... I just want to sleep. No visions or anything. Please, Draco?"

The blond gazed at him for a long moment. "Just the one dose?"

Harry met his eyes and nodded.

"Alright. I have one in my kit downstairs."

When Draco returned a moment later, Harry downed the vial of potion immediately.

"Will you stay with me?" Harry asked, childlike and subdued.

"Of course," Draco brushed the back of his fingers over his cheek, watching as Harry's face relaxed into sleep. "Oh, sweet. _What happened?"_

Fury flooded through him, and he left his sleeping boyfriend to storm down to the kitchen Floo.

"Granger-Weasley residence!"

The green flames roared.

"WEASLEY!"

Hermione and Ron's sitting room came into focus. The couple were sitting on the sofa, a drink in Ron's hands. He looked miserable, but Draco couldn't bring himself to care. They both turned toward the fireplace at his shout.

"What happened?" He seethed.

"Draco..." Hermione shook her head.

Her attempt to quiet him only made him angrier, and he turned that ire on the man beside her. "Tell me _why_ my boyfriend just came home looking like he'd come face-to-face with a hundred Dementors, Weasley."

Ron looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I only left for a second to order another round of drinks," he said softly, "but when I looked back he looked like he was going to be sick, and then his Glamour dropped, and the owner recognized him. And he... Well, he..."

"He threw him out?" Draco's voice had gone dangerously soft.

"Yeah. And Harry just... Left. Didn't fight back or anything. Just..."

"Because he _believes_ it, you imbecile. He believes everything they say—that he's worthless now, that he's not safe to be out in society, that he _deserves_ to be thrown out. You tossed him into the fire before he was ready—I _told you_ it was too soon—and now he's been burned and it's _your_ fault. You were supposed to protect him and you _didn't_. You foolish, self-centered _prat_. You—"

"That's _enough_ , Draco. Can't you see that Ron feels bad already? He didn't mean for this to happen." Hermione cut him off, looking hurt. 

"Oh, does the Weasel feel bad?" Draco taunted with his patented sneer, "imagine how Harry is feeling, you git."

He pulled his head out of the fire and slammed a fist on the stone hearth.


	7. 6 | All Your Life

Harry woke to the feeling of Draco wrapped around him, pressed up against his back, his knees tucked against the backs of his own, an arm over his waist. Slow, even breaths brushed against the back of his neck.

Memories of the previous night came rushing back and he tensed involuntarily, squeezing his eyes shut as if that could somehow stop the flood of hurt and anger that washed over him.

Draco's warmth was solid and grounding, and Harry found himself wanting to lean into it. He turned over to look up into his boyfriend's face.

"Hi."

Draco kissed him softly, murmuring a sleepy, "good morning."

Harry snuggled up against his chest, tangling his legs with Draco's as he wrapped his arms around him and kissed his forehead. "Breakfast?"

"Not yet. Just want you."

Draco blushed, smiling into Harry's dark hair. "Yeah? And just _how_ do you want me, love?" He drawled seductively, running a hand down Harry's spine and back up to his neck.

Harry shivered slightly but shook his head. "Just like this for the moment."

Draco adapted quickly and began running his hands in soothing circles over Harry's back instead.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm..." Harry hesitated. "No. I'm not. I knew it would be that way, but it still... It still hurt, you know? And I was caught off guard because I didn't realize my Glamour had slipped, and I just wasn't ready. I should have listened to you. Ron and I could have stayed here and had a good time."

"There was no way to know for sure. If your Glamour hadn't come off, getting out might have been a really good thing. I was just nervous something would go wrong, and I didn't want you to get hurt." Draco moved one hand into Harry's unruly curls, gently massaging his head and inwardly cheering as Harry relaxed in his arms. "What happened with your Glamour?"

"Another werewolf vision. It was really quick, like a daydream. I must have only lost focus for a few seconds, but it was enough."

Draco sighed. "I'm sorry. How did it go before that?"

"It was alright," Harry shrugged. "I miss getting drinks with Ron, but it's different now. He doesn't want to talk about you, I don't want to talk about the Aurors... It was a bit awkward."

"Hm. I'm sorry. I, er... I may have shouted at him through the Floo after you fell asleep."

Harry winced. "You didn't."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't his fault, Draco. He didn't mean for it to happen, he didn't know—"

"I know," Draco cut him off, "but if you could have seen your face last night... If _I'd c_ ome home looking like that after someone had sworn they would look after me, how would _you_ have reacted?"

Harry huffed out, not a laugh, exactly, but something akin to one, and the corners of his lips twitched into an unwilling smile. "I'd have wanted to yell at them," he conceded. "Come to think of it, that was a pretty Gryffindor response, Drake."

Draco feigned shock and horror. "How _dare_ you. I am pure Slytherin and you know it, don't insult me by suggesting otherwise."

Harry did chuckle softly at that, tilting his head up to kiss him. "If you say so."

"I do," Draco smiled back.

Harry sighed. "I really wish you and Ron would try and get along. I care about you both, and I don't want to have to choose between you. Please don't put me in that situation."

Draco nodded and sighed. "I'll try, love. I'm still a bit angry, but in the spirit of that promise, I'll apologize to him for my outburst last night. For you."

"I can live with that," Harry closed the distance between them again, tucking his head under Draco's chin. "Thank you."

•••••

Draco's apology through the Floo after breakfast as met with a tight smile and a forced, "thank you," but he didn't know what else he could do.

Harry's plea for him and Weasley to get along seemed like a hopeless cause.

Hermione had wrung her hands in the background, nervously suggesting that they all have dinner soon.

The resulting wordless conversation between her and Weasley made it clear how her husband felt about the idea, but she only doubled down, and Draco found himself agreeing to dinner at the Granger-Weasleys in exactly one week.

With one last sincere apology, he sighed and ended the call.

•••••

A few days later, Harry looked up when Draco walked into the kitchen. "Hey."

"Hi," Draco greeted him with a kiss, "it's nice to see you cooking again. Where's Jenkins?"

"Visiting his family. I gave him a few days off. I tried to get him to take a full week after how hard he's been working for me these past few months, but I only managed to talk him up to three days. House Elves," Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I was happy to make dinner for Parkinson's visit tonight, though. I'm glad she likes Indian food since I've been trying out some of my grandmother's recipes this past year. There's fresh naan warming in the oven from that place we like on Diagon to go with the curry and rice. I didn't dare try and make it all myself. I'm out of practice."

"Hmm, yes," Draco murmured distractedly, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder and looking curiously into the pot, where the fragrant curry was bubbling.

"What?"

"Nothing, dinner smells excellent."

Draco shifted and kissed Harry's cheek, then the back of his neck, trailing his hands down his sides and then slipping them up his shirt to trace over his stomach.

"Nothing?" Harry laughed, setting aside the wooden spoon he'd been holding and turning in Draco's arms. "Certainly seems like _something_."

"You're irresistible when you cook, you know that," Draco murmured, kissing him softly and slowly.

Harry turned off the stove top and waved a hand at the pot, presumably casting a stasis charm to prevent the curry from burning, but Draco didn't particularly care at the moment because now Harry's hands were free to run through his hair, and pull him tightly against him, which they did.

"Can I try it?" Draco asked, drawing back with a sly smile.

Harry looked slightly dazed. "Try... Um, what?"

Draco inclined his head at the pot on the stove.

Harry swallowed and nodded, picking up the wooden spoon and dipping it in the pot and then holding it out, watching as Draco licked it off with a positively wicked glint in his eyes. Harry's eyes were locked on Draco's mouth as he made a soft sound of pleasure and ran his tongue over his lips.

"Oh, that's _good,_ darling," Draco drawled, taking the spoon from Harry's hand and setting it back on the countertop.

"Yeah?" Harry's eyes were dark as he watched Draco's next move.

"Very _very_ good," Draco murmured, stepping close again and pressing a kiss to Harry's jaw, then another behind his ear. He backed him against the counter and Harry tilted his head back with a moan.

"Draco..."

Draco followed, sliding a thigh between Harry's legs and trailing kisses down his throat, then back up to capture his mouth in a searing kiss that was returned with enthusiasm. He hooked an ankle around Harry's calf, an invitation he knew the other man wouldn't be able to resist. With a soft moan against Draco's lips, Harry's hands slipped down his back to cup his arse, and Draco jumped up to wrap his legs around Harry's waist, groaning when he was spun around and slammed against the nearest wall.

Draco loved this side of Harry; his hands pulling his hips flush against him, low growls of pleasure emanating from his chest as he kisses him in that way he always has, like kissing Draco is the only thing that matters, and nothing else even exists.

Lost in the feel of Harry's mouth, the hands cupping is arse, his own hands tangled in Harry's dark locks, Draco whines when Harry abruptly pulls back.

"Parkinson will be here any minute," Harry panted, dropping his forehead to Draco's shoulder. "We need to stop."

"Parkinson is already here, actually," a voice came from the doorway, startling them both, "Not that I'm one to turn down a free show. _Damn,_ Draco."

"How did you...?" Harry was blushing furiously. He set Draco on his feet and ran a nervous hand through his already-messy hair. 

"Well, I _knocked_ several times," Pansy smirked, "but apparently no one heard me. I wonder _why._ "

Draco grinned and stepped forward to hug her. "Pansy! It's so good to see you."

Her face softened. "You too, darling. It's been ages since we've had a chance to catch up. Been a busy few months, has it?" She laughed as they separated, glancing meaningfully over at Harry.

Draco grinned suggestively back at her. "Yes, very much so."

"Tell me everything later."

"Well, not _everything_ ," Draco winked. "I think you've seen enough today."

Pansy grinned.

Harry shook his head, wide-eyed but smiling awkwardly. _"Slytherins."_

Pansy took a step toward Harry, holding a hand out. "Listen, Potter, about what I said, when Voldemort was..."

Harry smiled and shook her hand. "It's okay, Parkinson. I understand."

"Merlin, he really _is_ noble," Pansy stage-whispered to her best friend before turning a genuine smile on Harry. "Thanks, Potter."

Harry was surprised how enjoyable their evening with Pansy turned out to be. Like Draco, she was sharp-witted and audacious, but her teasing and snarky comments lacked bite. Watching the two of them interact—trading friendly insults and gossip and endless banter—was amusing, to say the least.

They opened a bottle of red wine after dinner, Pansy's contribution to the meal, and moved to the sitting room where three of them relaxed on the sofas with their glasses.

Harry draped an arm over Draco's shoulders and leaned against him.

Pansy crossed one leg over the other and smiled at them from the other sofa. "I had a feeling this would happen," she chuckled. "The moment I saw you two dancing together at that club, I knew."

Draco flushed pink. "You _saw_ that?"

"I know I was late, darling, but yes, I _did_ show up. Right on time to watch you kiss Potter and then ditch me."

"You were over forty-five minutes late!"

"Beauty takes _time_ , Draco. And aren't you glad I was late? Gave you the chance to shag your lifelong crush, didn't I?"

Harry, who'd been leaning against Draco's shoulder and fighting to keep his eyes open, startled fully awake. "Your what?"

Draco's blush deepened. "Panse, _please_ shut up."

She practically cackled. "You didn't tell him? Oh, _Potter_. Draco has had a crush on you for a very long time. Since we were children, in fact. It was always 'Harry Potter this, and Harry Potter that. What do you think he looks like, Pansy? I bet he's handsome. I bet he's powerful since he defeated the Dark Lord as a baby, he probably knows every spell already. Blah blah blah.' And then when you rejected his handshake on the train, oh _dear_ —"

"Panse, _please._ "

She grinned. "Well, he didn't like that at _all_. So he channeled his crush into, well. You were there, you know."

Harry was glancing between Draco's decidedly pink face and Pansy's wicked grin.

"Oh. I, um, I had no idea." He looked at Pansy for a few more seconds, then narrowed his eyes. "What were _you_ channeling, then?"

"Ah. You _are_ smarter than they give you credit for, aren't you?" She chuckled. "A little crush on Granger, obviously. But don't you worry, I've long since moved on."

Harry shook his head. "So there we were, thinking you two hated us, when you really just wanted..."

"Into your pants, yes."

"Oh."

Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Thanks for that, Panse. See if I ever invite you over for dinner again."

"Don't worry, Pansy. If Draco won't invite you over, _I_ will." Harry grinned.

She really did cackle then, clapping her hands in delight.

Draco sputtered, " _Harry!"_

Harry held his wine glass out for Pansy to clink hers against conspiratorially, and they drank in unison, eyes twinkling merrily.

"What have I _done?"_ Draco lamented as he watched them.

•••••

An hour later, the two Slytherins were still talking, and Harry was drifting off against Draco's shoulder again.

"Go up to bed, darling," Draco murmured, as Harry's head slid off his shoulder and he jerked awake again.

"'S only nine o'clock," Harry muttered.

"And you're half-asleep already. Go on. I'll be up in a bit."

"Okay," Harry stood, yawning widely. "'Night, Pansy. Thanks for coming."

"See you later, Harry."

Draco shook his head as he watched him head for the stairs, marveling at how quickly he and Pansy had bonded.

She moved sofas and took Harry's seat beside him, looking concerned. "Is he always so tired?"

"Lately, yeah," Draco sighed. "We've been doing some reading up on it. I guess it's typical to be overtired for the first few months while the body adjusts to the lycanthropy, but he _should_ start getting some energy back. It's already been better, actually. He's been sleeping a lot less during the day. He still gets tired in the evenings, but it's a big improvement from a month ago when he was sleeping half the day as well."

"Good," Pansy smiled. "I like him. I forgot just how sassy that boy can be. It's _delightful_."

Draco smiled back. "I'm glad. Although I could have done without the 'humiliate Draco' portion of the evening. _Honestly_ , Panse."

"Harry and I bonded over it!" She laughed. "Besides, I admitted to my crush on Granger, so it wasn't totally one-sided. How _is_ the lovely Hermione, by the way?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not answering that. Tell me about this new girlfriend you mentioned in your last letter." At this, Pansy actually looked slightly love-struck, and Draco grinned. "Oh, you _like_ this one."

She blushed. "Yes, I do. Do you remember Daphne Greengrass?"

Draco nodded. "Of course."

"She has a younger sister, you remember? Just a couple years younger than us. Astoria?"

"How could I forget?" Draco deadpanned.

"Oh right, your father wanted her to be your _intended_ ," Pansy giggled. "Well she's mine now, so don't even think about it."

" _Never_." Draco shuddered bodily at the very idea. "Go on, I know you're dying to tell me everything, so spill."

Pansy talked about Astoria for a long time, and Draco was thrilled things were going so well for her. She deserved a bit of happiness.

Eventually though, the conversation circled back to Harry.

"You know I don't care about the werewolf thing, right?" Pansy said softly. "I've told you about my uncle, he's the Alpha of a pack in France. My parents refused to acknowledge his existence. Blasted off the family tree and all that. But I secretly contacted him once as a child. I got a very nice letter back—he answered all my silly questions and thanked me for writing but told me he wanted to respect my parents wishes to be estranged and wouldn't be able to write again. But I could contact him again now, for you and Harry. I know how much you love France. Harry could join his pack?"

Draco sighed and absently trailed a hand through his hair. "Thank you, but Harry is already connected to a pack here. _Greyback's_ pack. Since he killed the bastard, he inadvertently made himself their new Alpha."

"Oh. Well that's... Oh."

"Yeah, it's a mess." Draco stood up. "Listen, Panse. It's getting late and I'm tired. Let's get together again soon though, okay?"

Pansy stood too, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Alright. Listen, I could still write to him and ask for more information about werewolves, if you'd like?"

Draco pulled her into a hug. "That would be great, thank you."

She left, promising to write her uncle the next day, and Draco went upstairs to bed, his mind racing.

•••••

A few days later, Draco got an order request from the potions shop on Diagon, and Harry enthusiastically encouraged him to take it. He was feeling much better, and could definitely entertain himself for a day while Draco was working, he'd said with a smile.

He _did_ seem better, and Draco had missed his work, and so he spent the day sweating over cauldrons in the spare room of his flat that he'd converted into a small potions lab. He sent the order off in the afternoon, took a quick shower, and Apparated over to Grimmauld Place.

Draco ran a hand through his damp, freshly-washed hair as he made his way up the stairs. "Harry?"

He took the steps two at a time and poked his head into the master bedroom, which was empty. "Harry? Where are you?"

"Up here!"

Draco followed his voice to the guest bedroom on the third floor. "Love?"

He poked his head into the room and froze in shock. Harry had just finished painting the walls a light grey, it looked like. A roller was set haphazardly on a nearby tray, and he was hammering the lid down on the half-full paint can, his clothes and dark hair spattered with the same shade.

Harry turned to look at Draco and stood, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Hi!"

There was a streak of paint across his forehead where he must have wiped at his brow with a messy hand.

Draco stared at him for a second, then smiled slowly. "You're _painting?"_

"Yeah, I had some energy this morning and I've been meaning to get a guest bedroom fixed up for when Teddy sleeps over. Put some toys in here, maybe some decorations? Ron's got him on a Chudley Cannons kick, so maybe some quidditch posters or something? Would you want to go shopping for some furnishings for him next week? I was thinking we could—"

Draco strode purposefully across the room and pulled Harry into a bone-crushing embrace, paint and all. Harry chuckled softly and hugged him back. "What's this for?"

Draco swallowed hard, attempting to clear the lump that had formed in his throat. "Just... For being you. I'm glad you're working on the house again."

_You're back._

Harry grinned. "Me too. Sorry, I'm getting paint on you. Let me just... _Scourgify!"_

Draco kissed him hard, not caring a whit about the paint.

"How did brewing go?" Harry asked when he pulled away.

"Oh, fine. I got the order sent off this afternoon." Draco smiled. "It was nice to be back in my potions lab, even if it is a bit cramped."

"I was thinking about that," Harry grinned. There's a large cellar off the kitchen that I thought—I mean, it's filthy and full of spiders right now—"

Draco pulled a face.

"Sorry. But it's a decent size. I thought maybe if I cleaned it up, added some new lighting, maybe some magical windows to brighten things, It might make a pretty good potions lab..."

Draco's eyes widened. "Harry, that's..." He smiled so broadly his cheeks hurt from the strain. "I'd love that. Thank you."

Harry trailed loving fingers over his cheek. "Anything for you."

 _You're back_ , Draco thought again as he leaned forward to kiss him again. _You're back._

•••••

Hermione opened the door with an overly-bright smile. "Draco, Harry! Hi! Come on in!"

With a nervous glance at each other and a reassuring squeeze of the hand from Harry to Draco, they entered the Granger-Weasley residence.

"We brought Firewhiskey," Draco leaned over and said conspiratorially to Hermione as they followed her to the living room.

"Good idea," she laughed. "I'm just going to finish the pasta and dinner will be served. Ron and Rosie are just playing in here, if you want to—"

"I'll help you in the kitchen," Draco volunteered.

Harry gave his fingers another squeeze, suddenly grinning. "I'll go see my goddaughter and give her _this_." He held up a brightly-colored ball that had seemingly appeared inside his pocket. It rattled noisily when he moved it.

"When did you—you said you weren't going to do that anymore!"

Harry feigned confusion. "Did I? I don't remember saying anything like that, and it certainly doesn't sound like me. I enjoy being the favorite _far_ too much."

"Traitor," Draco growled, glaring at his back as he walked away. "I'll bring something _better_ for her next time."

Hermione chuckled. "Try a book. She'll like the ball, but she's been especially loving books lately."

Draco grinned. "What a relief, she takes after her mother."

Hermione swatted at his arm, but there was no heat behind the gesture. "Come on, before everyone gets hungry."

•••••

Soon, the five of them were seated at the table. Rose screamed at every attempt to buckle her into a high chair, and ended up sitting in Harry's lap.

More proof that he was the favorite, and he was being inordinately smug about it, Draco thought.

"So..." Hermione began awkwardly. "How are things?"

"Good!" Harry and Draco chimed in unison.

"Erm—"

"Harry's been working on Teddy's room," Draco said quickly.

"Oh Harry, that's fantastic! He was so excited to have his very own room at Grimmauld Place before—" She cut herself off abruptly in horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—I just know how excited he was."

Harry smiled gently at her. "'Mione, it's okay. I'm...I can't stay in denial about this forever. And I _have_ been feeling better. The lethargy has been easing up, just like your book said it would, so that's a relief. Thanks."

Hermione gave him a watery smile.

"So, what're you doing in Teddy's room?" Ron asked, joining the conversation for the first time.

"I painted it a light grey. It feels much brighter now without that dark wallpaper. Now I just need to fill it—furniture, decorations, horridly orange Chudley Cannons posters," Harry rolled his eyes at Ron when he mentioned the Quidditch team.

Ron laughed. "What can I say? The kid has taste."

After dinner, Hermione took the little one, who was drifting off against Harry's shoulder, chubby fingers tightly clutching his shirt, up to bed.

Which left the three men alone to clean up in tense silence.

Draco turned away from the others and immediately set to work on washing the dishes, flicking his wand at them as they began to scrub themselves.

"So..." Harry began.

Ron swallowed and turned to face him. "Listen, Harry. I'm really sorry, okay? I didn't think that anything would go wrong. I should've listened to Malfoy and done a better job watching out for..." He trailed off, looking miserable.

Harry gave his best friend the same forgiving smile he'd flashed Hermione during dinner. "It's alright, Ron. I just wasn't ready yet. Let's try again sometime in the future."

Ron nodded, looking relieved. "Next time we'll just stay at Grimmauld Place though. I'm really sorry about what that guy said, that was completely out of line, the bastard—"

"I know, but I'm going to have to get used to it. He's only the first of many, I'm sure."

"I wanted to hex him into next week," Ron growled.

Harry grinned. "And I love you for it, but it's better that you didn't."

The two men hugged, clapping each other on the back as they separated.

" _Gryffindors_ ," Draco muttered at the sink.

"You love us," Ron teased, looking surprised at himself afterward, and Draco spun around, startled.

"I most certainly do _not_ ," Draco drawled, giving him a small, teasing smile back.

Harry laughed and waved his wand, sending all the clean dishes flying into their respective cupboards.

"Firewhiskey, anyone?" Ron offered.

_"Please."_

Overall, the night went rather smoothly, much to Draco's relief.

Maybe there was hope of being on friendly terms with Weasley after all, as strange an idea as that was.

•••••

A few days later, when Draco arrived at Grimmauld Place, he found Harry practically bouncing with excitement.

Harry pulled Draco by the hand, face flushed with excitement.

"Come on, it turned out even better than I hoped. You're going to love it!"

They reached the old cellar door in the kitchen, and Draco hesitated, a memory of Harry telling him it was full of spiders surfacing.

Harry grinned. "Remember how I told you I'd make you a potions lab in this cellar?"

"You really did it?" Draco breathed.

Harry's grin just broadened as he pulled the door open and swept a hand toward the short staircase. He clicked his fingers and lanterns along the walls flickered to life, lighting the stairs and the open room at the bottom.

Draco paused in the doorway, taking in the new lanterns and scrubbed stone walls, then bounded down the steps and froze at the bottom, staring into the potions lab of his dreams.

The room had clearly been expanded slightly using magic, and it was extremely clean. There were cabinets on the upper half of the walls all around the room, and plenty of counter space beneath, and a stone dais in the center of the room with plenty of room for him to have multiple cauldrons going at once. Bright lights lit the room from every direction.

Draco turned to look at Harry, who was clearly very pleased with himself.

"Spider free, I promise. D'you like it?"

"Like it? Harry, it's perfect!"

Draco threw himself at his boyfriend, wrapping him in a hug so tight Harry complained about not being able to breathe. Draco released him and kissed him happily. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Harry bounced on the balls of his feet, still smiling wide, when his expression changed unexpectedly, and he caught himself on the door frame, breathing heavily. He turned fearful eyes on Draco, who stepped forward to catch him as another vision of the werewolves hit.

_"Gordon says they lost three pack members last full moon. Three. Belinda's pack lost two. Rumor has it a pack on the west side of the forest near the village lost five, but the rumor is unconfirmed."_

_"I don't see what that has to do with us." Lorcan retorted._

_"Werewolves are being killed, possibly even hunted, and you don't see what that has to do with us?"_

_"Quiet, Grace. It is not your place to challenge me."_

_"It is when you're making poor decisions and you're not the Alpha," Grace argued back._

_"I should be. I've led this pack for long enough—"_

_"With increasing instability, controlling behavior, and paranoia..." Someone muttered._

_"What did you just say?"_

_"Harry Potter is our Alpha. He killed Greyback. Everyone knows that now." Laith interjected._

_Lorcan snarled. "We'll see about that."_

For the first time, Harry caught a glimpse of a brief visual before regaining consciousness, the exterior of an enormous old house.

Harry opened his eyes to see Draco watching him anxiously. They were on the floor in Draco's new potions lab, and he was cradling Harry's head and upper body in his lap.

"That one seemed especially bad," he murmured.

Harry swallowed, nodding and bracing himself for the wave of nausea that he knew was coming.

"It's Lorcan. He's even more angry than before, and he—he's... scared, but trying to hide it. And he really _really_ hates me. But there was—" Harry sucked in a breath, "—something else. I saw something at the end. A house. I think it's where they are."

"There was a visual this time?"

"Yeah. An old house, surrounded by trees. I don't know where it is, but I saw it."

"Hm. Okay, let's not worry about it for now, then. How are you feeling? Any steadier?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet, sorry. Should pass in a minute. Thanks for catching me. Again."

Draco smiled and brushed a hand through Harry's unruly hair. "Happy to."

"You've been doing that a lot lately. Catching me. Saving me. Thanks." Harry cupped his cheek, eyes soft and loving, and Draco couldn't resist leaning down to kiss him again.

"Anything for you."


End file.
